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YV6 








TABLE OK CONTENTS. 


NAME. PAGE. 

GLADSTONE 

BYRON 


name. Page. 

EAST TENNESSEE 

OSMAN DIGNA 


NAME. PAGE 

GUITEAU IN HOOPS.. . 
KANT 


WATTE R SON 


BEECHER 

CAPEL 

CHARLEY WEAK 

HERACLITUS. 


GORDON 


PLATO 

JOSEPH COOK 

1NGERSOLL . 


KITTY FIELD, Spinster.. 
'•• LES BLASPHEME". . . 
CRYING EVIL 


RUSKIN. 

TALMAGE 


.HOLMES 

ARTEMUS WARDUS 

MARKUS TWAIN 

LONGFELLOW 

TOSH BILLINGS 

MAD MUSE 

DeGRE'T BEYANT 

NIGGAH DAN 

.HOKY SMOKY or MISS 

MURFREE 

ISLE OF RIGHTS 

CRITICS- 


REV. $$$ c. c. c 

PA LEY.. 


COMTE 

BIBLE 


DANTE 

MALLOCK 


SPENCER 


ZANTIPPE 


BOSTON 


CELSUS 


CARLYLE 

LOUISVILLE 


VOLTAIRE...' 

PAN . 


PORTER. 


APOLLO. 


HAECKEL. 


BRUNO 


RICHEPIN 


CONFUCIUS 


DARWIN 


MOSE 


MORMONS... 


HARTS TRIUMPH OF 
CHASTITY 


PAINE 


'VIST.. 


BUNYAN 


~ON 

RINK 

^ND 


G. D. PRENTICE 

UNCLEAN BEAST 

HUXLEY.. . . 

LOTZE 


HRADLAUGH. 

B1LLNYE 

PTOLEMY 

CAM PAN ELL A ... 




FREMONT TEMPLE.... 
HAIL TRUTH! 


ALAUX and others. . 




ALEX. POPE 





K 




Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1886, by L Pilcher, in the office of 
the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



All Rights Reserved. 



& 

* 



*<#■ - x 



v I- 



HQI7GH 



ARGUMENT. 

My body has been dead for seventeen years, 
and my spirit has never been enabled to make 
good its escape. 

I am four miles under the ground, the sole 
occupant of a palace, carved in a strange forma- 
tion, unknown to geologists, whose digging tem- 
erity stops at their library. The architecture is 
massive and plain, yet brittle throughout. When 
I first found myself in this abode, I walked in- 
cessantly for years through the halls and cor- 
ridors, ever finding myself again and again and 
again at the terminus, which is this library 
where 1 now sit. I do nothing but play 
with my toes. The books which are piled 
about me are titled in an unknown tongue — 
probably English — and all are sealed — are 
''dummies." I am wide awake — forever it 
seems. I neither hunger nor thirst, and only 
tire after counting my toes for hours. 

No human being ever disturbs me here, and 
no sound ever reaches me. On certain days 
earth worms transformed into beings of speech, 
come rolling in upon me, and keep me in- 
formed as to all the sayings and doings of the 
dwellers upon the earth. They also inform me 
of the secrets of mankind. One of them said it 
had made a study of the secret thoughts of 
Gladstone, and that he was the Prince of Dem- 
agogs. That he knew it, and was rendered 
miserable by the fact that he was in such a fix ; 
that he could not shake it off, but prayed pit- 
eously for the relief of death — which was denied 
him, Another earth worm shouted, "Long live 
Gladstone !" and thereupon informed me that I 
had neglected to count my toes. I set energet- 
ically to work again, to make good the time 
lost on politics. 

There is one miserable pest of a Spirit, with 
the trick of doggerel and sad rhyming, that 
takes demoniacal delight in reading it to me, 
against my protestations and prayers. It cuts 
me like a saw, and desist it will not until I am 
hacked to utter dumbness. Then it unlocks my 
ears. I shall certainly die sometime. I cannot 
go on counting my toes and hearing this pesky 
spirit forever. If I laugh, alas ! the bard takes it 
for applause, and sets out again to repeat the 
punishment. The poet says he pours so many 
meaningless words into mine ear, and grinds 
them out my nose, for nothing else to do, and 



all this while my toes remain uncounted, and 
honest labor suffers. I have only three toes to 
count: two on my little finger, and one on my 
trunk. 

An earth worm thinking I would like to hear 
from my home, said : "They are building a 
church, and the ladies are going to give a 
dinner," thereup the pesky spirit read : 

A dinner they will bake ! 

That their good Lord shall thrive ; 

His spirit kept alive 

Upon a ginger cake. 

Then a baby worm said: "Your children ride 
on rollers; I wish that I had some too." 
Earth worm to me : "Skating rinks are all the 
rage, and the preachers are scandalized." Me 
to earth worm: "They'd better fight them than 
Science," and thereupon the poet demanded 
silence, while he delivered thus to me : 

"The parson would stop science !" 
Said the scient with a wink: 

"Ha! ha ! his frail appliance 
Can't stop a skating rink!" 

HUMMED BY A BELLE. 

Get ready for the skating rink, 

I haven't time to hardly blink ! 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

I'm off to the rink, and so are you; 

I am as sure as truth is true, 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

I'm in the rink, and so are you. 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

I'm in the rink to show you my — shoe 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

Mollie, look ? Well, I declare, 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too! 

How the hateful things do stare ! 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

First on one leg, then on two, 

Some on — never mind for you; 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

Moll is here and so is Poll ; 

Cap and bells, sport and fol, 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

Every boy and every girl, 

Heaven — is this giddy whirl, 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 



HUNCH. 



Rink tink, tink, 

Rink tink, wink ! 

Rink tink, blink ! 

(I feel a Princess — I see stars ! 

Stops a moment for repairs,) 

Rink tink, tiddle, 1 too ! 

The graceful skater I will wed ; 

She goes on skating — on her head, 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

They are here from everywhere, 

Except the preacher — he ain't there, 

I do not care if he does care, 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

On I'll skate tho' he may swear. 

That all the imps of— you know where, 

Are holding high carnival there. 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

The best classes are here I say, 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

Be3t classes of America! 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

Oh ! look at Bett, and look and Hett, 

We'll sin, and then send our regret, 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

The gods and fairies watched it all, 

And men as well as women fall. 

Then ag'in it are so good, 

The timid wouldn't if they could, 

Rink tink, tiddle, I too ! 

Tomorrow ? doctor's bills to pay, 

Splint ! Oh, rub the arnica, 

Rink tink, tiddle — how blue! 

Earth worm : The hebdomedal Nosewipe I 
see reports a sermon in which your old pastor 
says he knows there is a God, and the gnostics 
are willing to swear to it. Some people do not 
know that they know nothing. Me, to my ver- 
miculous friend: "Pray desist, if you please. 
Knowledge is worth pursuing if never attained 
It gives mortals employment where they have a 
grudge against manual labor. Its a fool's er- 
rand ice know now too well." Poet to Reverend 
Neverend : 

You know, you know there is a God, 

Is a God, is a God ; 
You know, you know there is a God, 

Your sermon I construe. 



Now, therefore if there be a God, 

Be a God, be a God ; 
Now, therefore if there be a God, 

I'll bet he knows not you. 

Then the worm : The poet and the parson 
once were synonymous, now they are at war. 
They should be wedded rather than divorced. 
Then me to earth worm : The preacher should 
tell the world what it is — should be a news- 
paper in short, while the poet should tell 
the world what it should be. The poet should 
honor the parson. I had hardly ceased before 
the poet taking the cus, read : 



Honor to the parson, 
Who tells the good old story ; 

Honor to the preacher, 
Till the last galoot's in glory. 

Earth worm to poet : Read your Bible more, 
and you will rhyme better. The poet retorts ! 

"Read your Bible" said Byron, 

Unto you I say, 
Read Byron not, 

Neither will you obey. 



Have mercy for Christ's sake ! 
appeal to the poet. Then he to me : 



was my 



"For Christ's sake! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Jesus Christ is stiff upon his cross, 
Is warmed to life by lowly men. 

Is stiff as hell upon his cross anon." 

A critical earth worm : your figure is ill 
chosen, "stiff as hell !" 

The poet: Why? Hell is death; (R. V.) 
death is stiff; and hell itself is "regions of thick 
ribbed ice", says Shakspere. So the figure is a 
duality of aptness: 

Hell is changing as of old, 

It once was hot, it once was cold ; 

With some a region of the blest, 

Anon 'tis allied to a jest ! 

To make the same a sell 

Is — sheol. 

If there Is or Is not 'tis Right, 
Soul or none, 'tis Right, 
Heaven or none, tis Right ! 
On all these lay it strong, 
If there is Hell, its wrong. 

A knock is heard, and the poet invites a del- 
egation of earth worms to come right in and 
make themselves at home, and inquired what 
news the deputation had in store. The Colonel 
of the company said : There was nothing oc- 
cupying the minds of mortals at present, but 

the tariff, the leader, you know, is R 11. 

He recently invaded the South with thousands 
of "backers." The poet to the Colonel : 
Randall has subsidized thousands of men. 
Then marched to the South and back again ! 
Then one of the party drew forth a copy of 
the Nose Wipe, fresh and hot from the press, 
and read aloud all the news, being frequently 
disturbed by his hearers, the poet being the 
foremost to note as well as comment. One of 
the earth worms, a wealthy one, better known 
as Worm of the "Dust," conversed with the 
poet while the others listened. Bernhardt's 
marriage with the French poet was touched 
upon. The Frenchman was said to be a shal- 
low poet, while "his wife," said the Earth 
Worm, "is as slim as your poems." 



HUNCH. 



"The mind cure," said another, "has taken 
hold of Boston and East Tennessee ! Senator 
Edmunds is righting vice at long range — the 
Mormons; and Osman Digna is dead again." 
Beecher on Evolution and Revolution and all 
the news of the day was read aloud, while 
I listened passively. 

The poet was not idle, alas! and / knew what 
was coming. 

When the party got ready to retire he said : 

Your attention, pray, while I regale you with 
my latest poems. He began, and as all things 
must, finally finished amid some enthusiasm by 
the hearers. His rhyme touched all the themes 
spoken of, and epitomized the Nose Wipe, as 
follows: 

Rejected Authors, the sudden rise of Charles 
Weak, Negro Lore, Woman's Rights, the Death 
of Dan, Faith Cure, the Eminent Prelate, I 
Will Explode, to the off-side of Is by the Mad 
Muse, and so on. 

Everything- hinted at in the Nose Wipe was 
embalmed in verse: 

Earth Worm to companion. — The Nose Wipe 
rejects a poet, I see. Seems to me this only 
helps the hurt. To lock-out a leader only helps 
his cause. Then the poet : 

REJECTED SONGS. 

I will have done with poetic trend, 

My little verse is neglected, 
Forty printed will not mend 

The pang of thou rejected! 

There's Charlie Weak who straddled a 

[pen 

And made a name, 
And Sarah Green, it will be seen 

Is shod with fame, 
While I with pen felicitous and deft, 

Am left! 

Give me pen! — more paper! more ink! 
And I'll give you all that I think. 
My innermost thought I'll confess, 
For I yearn for one night's rest! 
O, give me the printer — the press, 
That sleep may bless me again! 
That I may be out of my pain, 
For once — only once more again! 

Puff! Puff! goes the train of my' thought, 
And I measure the midnight sky 

And "rejected," regarded as nought, 
"With thanks" — them all I decry, 

As dolts, and nothings, and rot 
I AM! and they'll be forgot. 

The roosters are crowing for day, 
Such thought thought out and said, 
By man will never repay, 
For one single throb in the head! 
Thump! thump! thump! thumpetee thump! 
I am a gump! gump! gump! gumpetee 

[gump! 



The poet to me: 

Did you ever read my poems on tangled 
heads? Never? Silence! 

Fashions change as seasons run 
Carlyle may frown all undone: 
"The world's a blank," 
(Heraclitus) 

Now Ollie Holmes with smile and pun 
Plays make-believe with many a prank: 
"The world is fun!" 

(Democritus.) 

Once all was long-faced Bunyanesque, 

Abnormal too. 
Anon Artemus Ward and Markus Twain 

Look quizzingly at you 
Wrong again. 

But come it will, tho' rather late, 

The human phiz will reach a normal state; 

Hasten the day 
When groans and giggles pass away ; 
When all abnormal cranks 
Make room for rounded man, give thanks! 

Feed from one store 

Optims pessimistic lore! 

And vice versa. 

Then he that at the fountain drinks 

Should Lord ha* mercy 

Mix his thinks! 

Wilt thou never be earnest for a moment, 
O, Poet! I cried, 

Striking his breast and attitudinizing, he 
thus to all: 

Earnest — ha! ha! ha! ha! 

A poet said, "Life is a jest," 

Another, "Life is earnest." 
Each held a side of truth, 

These poets double: 

Said Josh Billings in his youth, 

"Life is fun and trouble." 
To man of brains, 

Life is full of joy and pains, 

While to a philosophic mind, 

Life's sublime ! 
But to the poor, O, to the poor, 

In intellect, life's a bore. 

"Read more, cried I, cried several in deris- 
ion. Read us something shallow, something on 
matrimony, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

"Command, and I obey, 
Count the meter on thy toes. 

I proceed : 



HUNCH. 



TO RICHEPIN, 

A poet sat in a corner, 
A tear was in his eye; 
"With neither fame nor honor," 
He moaned, " hi-yih, hi-yih ! 

A poet sat in a corner, 

"O this is half a life, 
And O, to be a poet 

With no corner on a wife." 

Poet flew to hedonic France, 

Stopped at giddy Parie, 
Saw Sarah prance — 

After a plan — they marry. 

A poet sits in a corner, 

"Ah me ! alack a day," 
He has a wife — the scorner! 

To see too often, a ha ! 

Poet said unto himself, 

"Fool ! did not I know it?" 

Now the wife too frequently 
Sits down upon poor poet 

Poet at the farthest corner 

Of earth is sad and meek, 
And whiles away the hours 

Watering his cheek. 

"The muse is mad, alas !" groaned the 
Colonel. "Mad? mad? attend thine ear, O. 
Colonel, of an unknown regiment : list thou ! 

THE MAD MUSE. 

Whence is the whing-whangs, why ? 

The wasness says, the Mole Cule 
Is now wentted, my, oh my, 

Moan ! 'tis tha brey — Mr. Mule. 

Whither the goneness of which- vhackess? 

Help infusorias muchness, 
The hour is come — hung it in blackness. 

But the media dare not 'fess. 

Served a warrant on a gnomer, quick ? 

Be did — it is done, it be dude, I'm sick ; 
Sick of the suck-much cigarette, 

Long I to live ; fore yet ! 

Go it to Goneness ! glimmer ! git! 

Give up the gib, jab, jibs, 
Yet, dare not touch the long-felt yit, 

Nor tickle his royal nibs ! 

Wet be the eye of the healthy moan, 

Dry as dust is the exit, 
Swallow space dough, spit out the bone, 

Future ! Can't catch it to fix it. 

Sh ! " " whence this language dire ? 

' 'Slam! " — 'tis the — ' 'bang" — quick, ' • — 

[whizz !" 
Son of a Noble Sire? 

Checked to the oft-side of Is ! 



O, enthusiast in thy lonesomeness 
A hermit crab; go away cranfish ! 

Go it, Oh, Boots, on thy thin-rined Guess, 
Starve on a bloated wish. 

Sublet a let to a lonesome strange, 

Atom eludes the germ, 
Force the annulose into range, 

Go in for the long term. 

Let the thingness groan at the Ego, 

And the Nowtime smile at the Pastliness, 

Let the Sheous trail the where'er Hego, 
'Tis all for the Bestliness. 

Let the what-much dance upon the moon, 

And the whoop-up say his say, 
Let the insect sigh of his aftsoon, 

Let the Goneness go to stay. 

Let the Bummer bumble-bee the bum, 
Let the Basilmathurgis pass the hat, 

And yearn for the but yet kingdom come, 
Let death get out of That. 

Let the Let let up and light 

On his legs, let him light and stand; 

Let Plato sleep in dark, dark right, 
And Pardner, here's my hand. 

THE GRIP YARN. 

"You know Dan nigger Dan ridiculous 

"Dr." Baker, 

At Nich S n ear Lex , the Old Veranda 

Hotel— 
Never there? What you've missed! — narry 
fakir, 
But you have — and you — I've a story true 
to tell. 
Have a light — take a fresh — all Havana filler, 
No boys, 'tis no sell — shant say more — 'tis a 
killer. 

Well, Dan, barber Dan, the comical, stammer- 
ing nigger, 
On hand day or night, ever well, 
Heard him laugh four squares — I should snig- 
ger. 
The bluest he could quell. 
All he'd do'd be to touch the trigger, 
And explode — it just beat," — here a figure. 

Well Dan, porter Dan, that proud, quick-step- 
ping dark, 
Bow-legged, white-vested, and on his head a 

P lu g> 
The very sight of which would break you all 

up, such a lark, 
Shining eye and ubiquitous mug, 
"Gem'm-m-men, scip-scip-sip — hash! 
Suippity — supity — ha! ha! ha! for decash!" 

He could sing — such volume was never heard, 
And dance — his heel never went back on 
him. 



HUNCH. 



And preach — in fun — and never get stuck for a 
word. 

And talk — talk a man plumb up a limb ; 
And eat — to see him hide "red" was a sight. 

Black? oh, no! — as starless night! 

Polite? — a Lord Chesterfield in midnight. 

I never went there on a trip, 

That something amusing and new, 
Didn't come forth from his lip, 

Or die in attempting to. 
The circus perhap, had been there, 
Or poet repeating the bells, 

Or a rope walker gliding through air, 
Qr something to give "Doc" the spells. 

In the the cage ever dauntless he goes, 
And feeds the lions with raw ; 

Or a lecturer for his board owes, 
There was nothing to see but he saw. 

His fun was of a queer kind, 
That sensitiveness must obey, 

It was natural, jubilant, blind, 

Lodged in him, lodged there to stay. 

To greet him and see him attempt, 
To make a witty reply, 

The struggle that then ensued, 
That always shook him awry, 
And tickled his rib there to die. 

When he dies his wit and ever happy reply on 

his breath, 
May come frem the dumb lips of death. 

Be baptized in de p-p-p — hoi' yo' bas'! 
" 'Rack out,' Brudder Sam, trot or pace! 
Pass de hat, ef Kathrine did, 
An' always beware ub de wid'! 
Then arguts some criminal cases, 
Repeats from Richard III ; 

Hab er brace, Dr. B , and he braces. 

This black, ornithological bird! 

What a rest to the traveling man! 

To see this ethnological figure, 

Dance through the offices! Dan 

Was none of your half-and-half nigger. 

Oh, he was a "Dan"-dy — a hummer, 

For drinks and stray dimes, 

He could "do" the toughest old drummer. 

I was young, and these were great times; 

No monk ever cut such shines. 

Such a mouth that was pulled too soon 
Fcr words but for mimicry rare, 
"Boys, dare goes the lates' new coon, 

On de lebel and part on de sq-sq-ha! ha! 
ha!" square, 
He doubtless meant to say — 

And his 'omurn, Dora by name, 
As fat as her jolly, good lord, 

A few of them called it a "shame," 
That "law" had not said the word: 

S'pose it had, he couldn't answer. 



Seven other Dans 

Had got here a little too soon 
For law; why laugh? — and more black 
and tans 
Are growing to laugh like the loon. 
The law now says that Dan must dance, 
sir! 

Was a joke, and the jailer consented, 
And the bugga-boos banded together; 

And Dan all that night repented, 
Saying he was under the weather. 

The turnkey, to make the joke take, 
Told Dan that the ku-klux would call, 

To pretend that he wasn't awake, 
"Turn your black face to the. wall!" 

The negro believed it in fun, 

When frightful masked men shook and 
pulled 
At their victim; then one begun, 

And several kinks from his head culled, 
To send to Dora for she, 

Would like to fergit him by, 
A commanding voice then said he, 

Would see that they "closed his eye." 

Then Dan never moving a muscle, 
Laughed to madness — the brink 
For 'closing your eye,' meant a drink, 
A toddy, a straight, or a wink: 
"Come boys, pull him out, for the day 
Is here, we'll be caught, let's away! " 

Then there was a terrible tussle, 

Among the klan, as to who 
Would relax his muscle 

And check his carcass through. 

Said one, "He is 'possuming well, 

Raise his head. 
Instead of a joke we've played hell!" 

Dan was dead. 



HIGH EUPHONY Vs. PLEBIAN SOUND. 
BIG HOKY SMOKY. 



(After Chas. Egbert Craddock.) 



A velvety darkness is in the West. 

The flickering fire fly suggested fantas, 

Magovicalskeletonics emanating from fluckition. 

Distance was a vast vague, sickening, 

Nauseating suggestion and snare; 

The air carried reminiscential suggestions 

Of distant hail, mingled and 

Interlaced, and intercepted with linings, 

Bespangled and fretted, and rubbed 

Down, until mingled odors of dogwood 

Blossoms and a dead mule arise. 

The pale emaciated, pellucid, pallucid, 

Consumptive moon was slipping up 

Behind Big Hoky Smoky. 

A few vagrant rays, serene and 



HUNCH. 



Denuded, flying in hieroglyphical 

Disorder, struggling for existence, with 

The crevasses, playfully dangling 

Ever and anon, hard by on the 

Back of the bull frog, swelling, 

Spreading, till monarchial spectres, 

Ghastly, ghostly divine began to 

Appear to those who had been 

Drinking too much "first shots." 

The katydid iterated with facial 

Contortions, far out of the limits, 

Which was reiterated by the bull frog. 

The forlorn leafless branches, with 

Hollow sockets and seldom foliage, 

Stirred mutiny and riot among 

The drowsy crickets and wormy 

Assemblage, which in turn 

Filled the strange gloom, and 

Black back ground, set in 

Indigo blue, with fitful contrast 

On the authority of the bluejay 

And the peckerwood. 

They saw it all through their 

Nictitating eye-lids. 

The moon journeyed tired and sweating in the 

Collar and hames, great drops of 

Pellucid sweat that glistens like a silver 

Sea drop lit by electricity, and moon 

Light and fox fire which joined in, 

To make the shimmer suggest the 

Indigo ennui flash in a pig's eye. 

At intervals, cocks crew triumphantly, the 

Democratic candidate for constable 

Having come in by twenty-three, 

Out of the forty-one floaters in the Bald ; 

And the nocturnal grasshopper responded, 

While the approval of the pig, pachydermatous, 

With his gruntulation of swine sagacity, 

Caught and held, and glorified the most 

Serpient and sneering. 

Hard by or up, came a sound of unspoken 

Poetical emotion, neurotic of hysteria; 

It regurgitated from the sad sedate 

O'Possum. Then the mountain flooded 

With gold, slipped adown athwart 

Across according to, from the 

Moon — the stiff, cardarerous planet, 

That has outlived its usefulness, 

Baptizing the domestic menagerie, and 

An an exotic lightning-rod man from 

Way Back, and the moonshine distillery. 

Only one specimen of the vast cranky, 

Ethnological congregation of Baptists, saw 

The wondrous scene, Flap-jack. 

He was extracting the snowny, skiey-bluey 

Milk, trom a liberal cow, with a sore 

On her fore limb. The cow had a 

Dull, glassy, blue-mass, ultarmarine 

Expression in her iris, upon which 

The moon shine reflected, ligh f , played, 

Giving a new vision »f color set 

Off in prismatic glittering gems. 

A sound caire o'er the world : 

"Thar now brin'l devil take 
The Keow !" 



It was the voice of Suckey.- 

A dull, dun mist crept over Big 

Hoky Smoky, followed by a veil of 

Shimmer, worth 1 6 y^ cents a yard, athwarting 

The beclouded disc. 

The billy goat hung his head in slavery's 

Symbolical way. The streamlet shivered 

Adown the brooklet, mingling intermingling, 

And associating with the slop from the 

Distillery. Silence rules at the world's 

Universal suffrage a second only. 

It would have been a success had 

Not the bull frog belched in sacrilege, 

As he raised his horny crest. The blue jay 

Looked god-like scorn a moment withering 

The b. f. into cold, clammy no more. 

"Soo! cow, soo! rung out upon the 

Circumambient rarified, clarified, airified 

Air! It was matchless, unhaltered, untrained 

Voice of the Heroine. She wore a cotton- 

ade 
Sunbonnet, and a cloak of sunlight, and 
Moon shadows and a brass ring. 
Beatific she looked! A flame of glorious 
Sapphire lept from her eye, sending 
Forth a wierd suggestion of an ignis 
Fatuus, don't-come-after-us, jack-o'-lantern 
Hands-off ! Surrounding here were 
Dark, portentous abysmal openings, 
With ponderous jaws; vastnesses bridged 
Ivory set in a suffusion of crimson, 
Translucent, glamourous, dream-like, 
Tempting the gilded license of fantastic, 
Weak-minded imagination, too delicate to 
Be focused by the pen of $3 writer. 
A horny grub worm crawled out of a 
Vermiculous saw log and crawled 
Back again. Hist! the tinkling 
Nabulation of a No. 9 brogan mingles 
With all Nature that is not hushed. 
It is Jo Bung-bore. 
She loved Flap-jack. She married Jo 
Bungbore. 

The latter sent the former into speculation 
From his milk pail. 

The moon was hid by a delicate skein of 
Fleecy cloudlets, photographing strange, 
Characters undecipherable except to 
The prophetic ken of the initiated eye. 
Big Hoky Smoky rose up like a Han't 
From the sea of aboriginal night, and 
Glistened like the iridescent bubble 
That Mark Twain used to play on our 
Feelings with. 

CONCLUSION. 

A new beauty was abloom in her cheek suf- 
fused 
In radiance. More vibrant iterations rose 
From the katydid. The sound vague, fugue, 
Wierd, uncanny woke her from a dreamy, 
Somnambulistic haze into which she had fal- 
len. 
It was the isolated screech owl, built 



HUNCH. 



In defiance of evolution. An illumined 
Silver gauze flickered about his screech 
Rendering it soft as oriental hymns of 
Night: ' The cowpatch with its modulating 
Zigy-zagy serpentine deviousness was 
Brushed by the zephyrs that played upon 
It, making its grain rich in disorder 
Of agitation filling it with sparklers. 
It was translucent, opalescent, giving out 
Many hues and colors in rich and 
Mechanical variations of its minimum 
Often built in defiance of rectangles, 
Curiously set in bespangled forms angelic 
And fantastic, scintillating in a hazy, mazy, 
Dozy dance before the eye. The tintinnabu- 
lation, 
And silvery bellulation rose at intervals, 
Constipating the air from the bull bell 
O'er the lea. His ejk was flushed 
With the golden zone of sunset and 
Success. The pig in the parlor was 
Profusely caparisoned and lolled 
About on curious divans trom poetical 
Handicraft. A hog was swathed and 
Smothered in seas of lace and edgings 
All covered over with the golden hue, 
It takes time to paint. A plain 
Mountaineer whose vote could be bought 
For $2 and a quart of rot-gut, is 
Thinking of her whose delicate, artistic, 
Cone-shaped fingers are toying with 
An adolescent wart on her left nose. 
They are rich. The mountain their carpet, 
The serene indigo sky their ceiling. The 
Moon wonder throws a rich, oreole and 
Divine din pan aback of his head, 
Glittering and shining like amoral, 
Bald head light, emitting curious jetties, 
And wondrous pyrotechnic lights and 
Flummery. The earth in its lostness 
And vastness their altar; the sunkissed 
Sea their font of holy water. He goes 
On cutting his corns and adjusts his 
Shoes, utters an oath and goes home 
To abuse his other wife. 
The wood cut is set in a million dollar 
Frame. The story is built in defiance 
Of rectangles like the chimney, from 
Which the smoke curls up. 
Look on this chimney and then on 
That smoke. It is plain smoke 
Smoky, Big Hoky Smoky. Where 
There is smoke, there is fire. 
Fox-fire at least! 



DE GRE'T BEYANT. 

Pant O, sister, pant, O pant, 
Gwine to the Gre't Beyant ; 

Rant O, brudda, Rant O, rant ! 
Gwine to the Gre't Beyant. 

Sa'lin' erwa', sa'lin' erwa' 
Fadin' erwa', fadin' erwa', 
Eenter de Gre't Beyant, Beyant 
Eenter de Gre't Beyant. 



Shout O, chillun', shout O, shout ! 

An' look ter de Gre't Beyant. 
Trim yo' wings and den look hout ! 

An bow ter de Gre't Beyant. 

O sarpints, O' sin, O sarpints, O' sin, 

Gwine ter de Gre't Beyant. 
Git yo' 'nintment, rub hit in, 

Gwine ter de Gre't Beyant ! 
Ter de Gre't hi yAm. 

Wastin' erwa' rastin' erwa', 

Meltin' erwa', tricklin' erwa', 
Eenter de Gre't Beyant, 
Eenter de Gre't Beyant. 

Hiss O, sarpint, hiss, O hiss ! 

Gwine ter de Gre't Beyant; 
Dey neber hit yo', er lie' er miss, 

Flyin' ter de Gre't Beyant. 

Slidin' erwa', glidin' erwa', 

Ridin' erwa', hidin' erwa', 

Ter de mist ob der Gre't Beyant, 
Ter de mist ob der Gre't Beyant. 

Si' O, people, si' O si' 

Dis side de Gre't Beyant; 
Die Oh, sinner, die, Oh die, 

Dis side de Gre't Beyant. 

Hastin' erwa', hastin' erwa', 
Stoffin' erwa', hungrin' erwa'; 

Enter de Gre't Beyant, beyant 

Enter de Gre't Beyant. 



DE NOWTIME. 

Whar is you gwine de yistidday, 
Whar is you fum dis notf, 
Which am de tother, which am de which. 
Ever which, er whar, Dear Sow? (Sir,) 

'Tis fo' shux ! I swow, I svvow ! 
Den git 'long in De Now ! 

Which am de if, whar am de go, 
Nothing in now time, lingers long, 
Doan know nuffin, whether or no; 
De bugga will sing his song. 

Whence comes de groan (iterwhich?) 
Who 'vented de grunt? 
If wharas am de wharfo' fKerwho?) 
What ham de use ob de now an de 'den, 
Or de by gone, or de dar fo'? 

I gin hit hop, hits pas' my gib, 
An' gem'men, let me say, 
Hit fotch no meat ter tickle de rib. 
De devil he ham to pay ! 



8 



HUNCH. 



A PRINCELING SON OF A PAUPER MA, 

Capel. 
We give you the best that we've got, 

You float on the top of our pot, 
We give you fine raiment and food, 
. Thou dandyfied, clerical dude! 

We filled your head with Ego, 
We stuffed your gown with our cash; 
Reverend Sir, don't you know, 
That in bad taste is your lash? 

Again when you come among us, 

To spout distortion and rot; 
Thou stuck-up, clerical cuss, 

We'll pay thee to lecture us not ! 
This country's the home of the free; 

And all is well that ends well. 
Go to, or just leave us be, 

Puny Monseigneur Capel !. 

Capel says : 

"I've met with derision and laughter," 
(Before our Freedem, O bow !) 

"They'll not a vague something hereafter, 
But give me hades in the Now." 

Be ye pious flesh-fleshly or pope, 

Go you with or without your hope, 
Honored, or in disgrace. 

Be ye formal or be ye non con. 
Be your mentis compos or non. 

Let us have have a fitness of things, 
Only stay in your place 

The bird of Libertv sings! 
Be ye frisky, or cranky, or freak, 

Ever so modest or cheek; 
Go you the wide or stingy route, 

When you go up the spout; 
Be ye almond-eyed Pagan or Turk, 

Or flighty-eyed Christian at work, 
Only stick to your wing?, 

The bird of Liberty sings! 
Be ye "Rev." or Bob, or Capel, 

Monolith of St. Stuff Infidel, 
Emblem of truth or a liar, 

Son of a — gun or a daughter, 
Clerical or heretical; 

You'll a taste of our fire, 
When out of your font of water ! 

We gave you fine raiment and food, 
You do not like our election; 

And now you think us quite rude, 
Because you get food for reflection! 



PRAYER ANSWERED. 

De skerriest yarn dat eber war tolt, 
So feardest war h'l dat my blood got colt, 
War bout de niggah 'dout enny soT, 
Dat an anchill 'ud be ! 

Onkle Silas Lasses war his name, 

Gettin' ready for heb'n, and poufful at prar; 

Sich a niggah I nebber seed I swar. 



Gemmen, hit war er shame! 

"Oh Laud," he grunt, "come git me quick, 

For h'l yam ob dis sin Ian' sick, 

HT want ter Ab'hams booz'zu'am 6tick," 

'Fee didn't you may kilt me. 

Well, one night late, jist arter fo' 

A woice hit lean hergin his do'. 

An' saad he's jist from de odder sho', 

An' scratched with his tail gin de cabin do', 

An' belched wit his bref good Laud afo'! 

An' friz Si's blood to be sho. 

Si ansed narra a word, 

While hit nimoskilt me. 

"Yer want ter be an anchill," de woice hit 

saad, 
An libe like hangels in dar bread, 
Ole man iz ye in? we want yo' head, 
An your name hits Sifias," — boom ! 

Den hop jumped Silas liker er buck, 
An said, "ha, ha ! honay, such truck 
Aint de message for dis here duck; 
You'b hit at de wrong do'. 
But if ye wants dat niggah now, 
Dat once war making dat pow-pow 
I'll tell ye whar he's stoppin' sow, 
When las' he heerd from enny how, 
We drapped him in his tume ! 
Den hTsaid, "Lasses mighty slick; 
Den h'l said, Lasses mighty sly; 
Den Silas Lasses jist as quick 
As powter said, "dat niggah lie." 
De Laud he gin ter praze his name, 
An ax Him not ter be ersham'!" 

I had noticed during these recitals, that 
quite a number of the poet hearers were taking 
notes. They seemed ashamed and confused to 
catch my eye, as if I naturally looked upon 
them with disfavor. 

The poet then continued his satire or mock- 
heroic, or whatever the critics term this mangy 
"style" of composition clog-geveh 

The Mormon faith grows apace 

We are not guilty though worse may take its 

place. 
Their religion is the vice, 
Not Polygamy — their paradise. 
More than one woman to a man, 
Is an accident, dispute it if you can! 
That must miscarry 
Until all bad disposed men are forced to 

marry. 
"I fear the Slave (see how I shake!) to any 

creed, 
Says Uncle Sam, "I hate the sins of such a 

breed, — 
Such slavery is quite disgraceing 
To Freedom's altitude menacing." 
They have wives, you have none! 
Many better half way ones by the score 
'Tis said — and peradventure, — paramour. 
In Utah less females than men! 



HUNCH. 



9 



The rooster far exceeds the hen 

Teach men to hitch — hist teazing pole, oh pray 

Establish matrimonial agency! 

[Enter Mormon Comic Mad Muse] 
Beads and weeps: 

In the States a mishap 

Seducer straight shoots her pap. 

"Christian home" in the toils 

Of so many domestic broils. 

The husband shoots his wife's seducer 

For stealing her all, 

Unless the lawsuit mollifies his feeling. 

The patient wife detects her "hub" after some 
huss. 

Pistol herself, oh such a muss! 

And even in their land the blest 

Baldheaded fathers guilty of incest. 

Many great men have no Daws 

And husbands minus pap-in-laws. 

From Maine to Florida misdeads, 

Leave thousands of Buds to grow up weeds. 

If reverend sir naps at morning late, 

An infant miracle greets him at the gate. 

Men yearn to propagate their species 

To look just like their dad 

Find a barren wife — that's bad. 

All this jumble we leave behind 

To those who see so much to be so blind! 

He who enters here will find, 

No fear nor leave his hopes behind. 

Peace — prosperity and gentleness 

Is the crime for which we now confess. 

Divorces, infidelity, filth, want and disease, 

Let "wisdom" chose, excuse us please! 
The Mormon polity is just 
The envy of the puzzled publicist 
Here all, are fed and clothed and housed 
Crowned with peace and health, 

Has Vanderbilt an iota more of wealth? 

Besides we have sufficiency 

Laid by for belated rainy day. 

Sing the songs of science 

It all we decry! 

The cunning Edmunds now with justice bar- 
ters 

And gives us a few more religious martyrs. 

The "saint" and not the priest would he con- 
demn, 

One loves at least; the other scorns woman. 

We are behind the times, no bawdy houses, 

Assignations, asylums nor poor houses, 

Each does not figlit all others 

But "pull"— "We're a band of brothers!" 

Upon this subject to you so dry 

We have no whisky shops public or on the sly. 

You besetted or bemused in awful pains 

Brag of copper visceras to steal away your 
brains! 

We have several wife or none or one, 

And it is said you're true to none! 

Here industry we bridle 

While your hand in despair runs riot — strikes 
hurt the idle! 



We give you chance to make a place 

Nor force you to stripe of disgrace. 

Refuse you work, force you to steal, 

That you may their vile justice feel! 

O, harken unto us — leave your rot 

Let us gather you in as we do our wives, 

Oh, Halifax! who would not! 

The Mormon at Justice now connives. 

The Mormon politics (damn their religion) 

compare with our nation. 
We curse it — humph! worthy of imitation. 
Man to man, there's justice for Chinee; 
While Freedom — see its refined brutality! 
Let Mormon humanity take the place of our 

greed, 
And beak and claw; the very seed 
Of damnation — chaos — blank oppression! 
Gentlemen, let us call a session, 
And learn wisdom at the feet of fools, 
Where equality, if not tame "morals" rules, 
Nor maddening casuistry twist your head; 
Nor science leave that head without a bed! 
Where many heads official in U. S. 
Are "bodies" without brains — acephalous. 
Oh! "body's" oh! publicists quite "able," 
Leave our bill of fare.on (empty) table! 
The triumph of Chasity should repair 

To L e to find her image there! 

Tho' Colonel Henry Watterson 

Is virtuous and misses lots of fun ! 

While his preceptor, G. D. Prentice, he 

Nursed the — muses on his knee. 

These long-haired hypocrit's, these "write ur s" 

— what a pity, 
That they see a sin no bigger than a gnat in all 

of Utah City, 
And overlook The UNCLEAN BEAST, glutted 

to his fill, 
In all its hideousness — I mean at Louisville, 
With 5, coo courtezans (alas! for them a tear!) 
With as many "double faces," lust turns out 

every year, 
For religious dudes "necessary evils" who ply 
Their dull arts sing "I'll be an angel bye and 

by!" 
With all its churches, pretentions and sham; 
The wolf, the hyena! by it Salt Lake is a 

lamb! 
This Babylon— this "Falls" City on the banks 

of Ohio, 
To turn its nose and say to them, "Thou art a 

seraglio!" 
Home of the del auchee, and libertine, 
The eminent moralists with promiscuous con- 
cubine. 
O, wise, erudite, topheavys, circumspect, 
I wouldn't have your — 'neuralgia, for all your 

intellect. 

MORMON CONFESSION. 

Mary pleases me, 
Sarah teazes me, 
Fannie amuses me, 
Hettie abuses me, 



10 



HUNCH. 



Annie cheats me, 
Irene heats me, 
But < harlotte fires me, 
And never tires me. 

A little hard sense now and then, 

Refreshing is to rhymers' pen; 

Who turn from commonplace, from the true, 

To fantasies — now let us d n connu, 

And puff the midnight oil, and the flambeau, 
And choose the darkness, it consoles at least; 
Let us grope in darkness, there, and feast; 
It is a change, and that is good, we know. 
Let's call the rhymer crazy that will give 
The critics all a chance, for they must thrive. 
They aid your circulation, bless their gizzards, 
They make the circulation sort of wizards. 
All fleshpots know, with the exception of just 

a little, 
Gained by absorption, we boil from others' ket- 
tle. 
If there be a thought expressed here, not 

hinted at before, 
Now mind it; 

You may — I cannot find it; 

Acknowledge all at once — rather than weary 
notes behind it. • 

You write me a disciple of B n, 

Let us your little likeness try on; 

I suffered more, have lived in more despair, 

Am mortal — he was a child of air, 

Lived less, tho' longer, he lived every day 

Of his life; to him it was a play. 

I groped in Dullness, Dunceness, Inanition — 

He yearned never; yet fulfilled ambition. 

Teachers many, and the very best,- 
I the worst, but this 's no test: 
Then none — such men are blessed. 
He walked the heavens — was sent to hell 
Imaginary, and we have never fell; 
I oft chagrinned, for pride what a god- 
send! 
I read his book, here let the likeness end. 

Byron quite conservative, nor cowed nor 

bought, 
Yet never said the half'he really thought. 
He could be sweet as all men know ; 
Nor was he half as bitter as his writings 

show. 
I've long lost interest in wicked bard, 
With heart so soft, with head so very hard; 
Tho' I wonder more and more and more 
Than I wondered at him years before. 
His hair is gray at thirty, eye is cold 
And penetrating; at heart he's still a four year 

old; 
A man in all things with much conn tilled, 
And yet his heart is with ihe small boy filled. 
The knowledge struck, still increases; 
Now for a little piece. 
Once it was a solid chunk, 
Now it is a little hunk.t 
Specialists, all in our day, 
The broader for the narrow way, 



Know all about a spider in a cave; 

Nor know how our neighbors may behave. 

Rake the bottom of the sea for evidence, 

The thousands suffering "no consequence," 

For knowledge. Just a little bit, 

We will not grant them it, 

By Federal aid or even by subscription 

"Knowledge for the fools?" Why, they take 
a conniption! 

As if it were exclusive for the wise, 

Who need it truly; but the fools shall have no 
eyes, 

And leave them worse than nature's bastards. 

Indeed, aren't the responsible all dastards? 

Hail, Man-monkey, haifdivini, 

Hail Charles Swing-Hing-Chee Darwini! 

Hold! "Heredity," "Adaptation," everything 
in its place, 

(New Deities, Brother Hteckle, before the same 
say grace!) 

Or rather the "place" grows a thing as it is 

E'en to abnormalities! 

Monism, dualism, metaesthetism, panaes- 

thet, 
Choose not, there are many yet. 

'Intuitional, creational, special, evolutional, 
We know not whether boy or gal or imper- 
sonal, 
Or, bi-exceplional, perhaps asexual, 
Or many more hypotheses. 

If you see not what you want, call for it if you 
p'ease! 
] Leave now your rot, your twaddle, 'tis fan- 
tasm. 
Down on your knees to Deo — Protoplasm. 
Striving 'gainst the wind, let the pa'son pass 
Science seins the ocean, explores the parasites 

in a gnat's eye; 
Goes into secret parts, then into— nebulae, 
Insect or mind the kind of ozone is he! 
Causes abysmals to ope mouth wide, 
Divides capillary 'twixt west and h— 11 west 

side. 
All things now 'd be understood, 
From bacillus we drink to lacteal fluid, 
Treat the past as dull, hopeless blind, 
Finesse of adept in an insect's before! 
The science of heart and soul and feeling 
Now dead, for fluids, solids, gases, 
Length, breadth and thickness o'er us stealing, 
Space, Time and horrors! 
Man no longer from the past borrows, 
Once gazed at the celestial with wonder, 
Now looking into lenses, by thunder! 
The sun may not, but matter "do move," 
Instability of the homogeneous they prove! 
Rest is in movement solids are fluids, 
Centers are turned into orbits, 
Things are not what they seem, 
The wise are donkeys. 
Evolution and selection, 
The proper study of mankind is monkeys! 
Microscopist observing the dimensions of a drop 
of water, 



HUNCH. 



11 



Is it asexual son or daughter? 
Are you male or female, 
Mr. Planet, Miss Sun, 
If so, how long have you been one? 
Physics like metaphysics, always lead 
To a uuerilla warfare, 
And sows among opposite the seed 
Of heresy; doubt us if you dare! 
If an infinitesimal body 
Flying through the sky 
Hit an infinitesimal fragment, 
All things go awry. 
Look then at the molecule 
Pitiful expression in its eye. 
The injured tone of voice, 
With waves of biliousness so high! 
Then see the lamed mind leaning upon a 

crutch 
And sighing, I fade away and scatter. 
Alas! nothing lives for aye, 
But the indestructibility of matter! " 
And force always overcoming, then retreating. 
Hard is its fate — its cheating! 
O Unknown Anonymous Hand, 

I catch you at your pranks, 
You teaze, 

When you cough, 
I will not sneeze! 
Do you acknowledge this to be your act and 

• deed? 
Humph! a mere half-breed! 
Whom we regard: There is a ''God idea" to 

not worth a cuss, 
Then, there is One, hut this is the last of us! 
Rides on scientific sea his craft, 
Freebooter Cook, when they were lost they 

laughed! 
Then shows bones of vertebrate sub-kirgdom, 
Curiosities in Cook's Hub-museum. 
Mixes is three professors' statements, 
With all his futile beratements. 
His theory of evolution he saddles, 
On Huxley! Then Joseph straddles, 
His homological ass the auditors, 
Who knew in infancy, here give us pause 
Enough to overthrow the British, 
Of Joseph Cook the charlatan be skittish ! 
Disproving by vituperation, 
Clouds up the Spencerian sky. 
And goes to Lotze for his heredity! 
Just like one dove-tailed homology, 
Lotze and Spencer quite agree! 
Still Fremont Temple fills! ah rae, 
Religionists who all agree! 
Then Cook, Posson Jo, quite heated, 
Cries lustily, "Can you (experts!) be cheated?" 
"In all this land there remains 
Not scattered out so many brains." 
Why then so much need of a teacher? 
The cultured? Lighted by a preacher! 
Makes Huxley announce 
A view which Cook cannot pronounce! 
Quotes from the 9th edition of Enc. Brit., 
Learns from Huxley to disprove it! 



Built an intellectual world that mystery has 
downed. 

Faith in theology lies dead and damned and 
gone, 

All systems of philosophy is found, 

Half-poetry — mere trickery, all wrong. 

The founders themselves disgusted if not 
shamed, 

Their personality deified, and then profaned! 

The experts — fair science has too many ways 

And systems no one will follow; 

No one expects the thing for which he brays, 

In oblivion bemused now we wallow. 

To morals we have only added weakness, 

Boldness is not tempered yet with meekness. 

The workman has his laboratory tools, 

But the victory is counted for the fools! 

The intellectual world is gone, 

And the poetical has doubting few, 

The metaphysical set at its dawn, 

The moral world is left for me and you. 

The inner world, what has it to say? 

The toiling world hasn't time to pray, 

If it had the will or inclination; 

The social world must study dress and fash- 
ion. 

All have gone to h — 11 or to the skies, 

Save criticism — that thing never dies. 

Fine spun words too frail to freight a thought, 

Euphoneous, not sense, but sound, 

Nor much that the ear has caught 

Or held — a euphemistic gossamer compound, 

That belongs to poetry and other things that's 
weak, 

Not homely truths in it resound, 

Nor words that meaning speak. 

High-sounding words he ne'er employs, 

Risks making nothing rather than a noise. 

Give us mild, intentional confusion; beat 

About the bush — shameless tergiversation, 
cheat — 

Bridled, tied down, is his plan — 

He hates the lawless idead man, 

That reigns and soars so free, 

Prefers the prim to such liberty. 

A mere guerrilla warfare that he scorns, 

A hot-hcuse variety with pricks — free things 
have horns 

And hoofs bent on spoliation, 

How "ruined" is this unhaltered nation! 

Or "gospel of dirt," said Carlyle and effected 
to despise, 

Evolution — ethnic dust in his own eyes. 

They "know" that they have a soul eternal. 

Tho' the Bible has its evidences quite carnal. 

In all religion (save Brahma) what confusion, 

While we have parsons we must have delu- 
sion. 

Hail truth! new truths, later ones till we note 
without surprise, 

They all at last are based upon charming pro- 
digious lies. 

The world we think c*ould be spared great 
Pope's rhyme, 

Yet I have swore when they rejected mine! 



12 



HUNCH. 



Well fares that land to hastening ills no prey, 
When fools fall out if they'd each other slay. 
Their silly, twaddling strife, 
Their demise doubly bless themselves and 

social life. 
Ill is that land, by such rakes infest, 
Who count their thousands from a few weak 

jests. 
Some preachers, some great infidels, 
Money and great fool-compels, 
While sick-eyed Want and yellow-blown De- 
spair 
Ask bread: a stone, a serpent sting their fare. 
When he arose and ope'd his mouth and 

spake 
Words that showed a head as well as heart, 
When he spoke out in meeting, so to speak, 
And said the parson's a fantastic freak, 
A foetus of the womb of a dark age, 
And drew the clearer line upon the stage, 
And struck it to them right or wrong, 
The people laughed a hearty, honest song. 
He was their tongue, the multitudes, 
And spoke what many thought, 
In words to suit, better than they dared think, 
To the horror of hypocrites and prudes, 
Who ne'er before had smelled of such a stink! 
Then straightway prayed they to their God,s 
To save mankind, the young, the rash, 
Their homes, firesides — and all the odds 
And ends — and raise their salaries in cash. 
Not only prayed but prophesied out loud, 
That God would change the chemicals 
Of the soil; jealous He and proud, 
So we were taught amid much noise — 
And give the soil a rest 
Because we fostered such audacious pest, 
Until corn would be 19 cts. a grain, 
Famines and scourge and narry rain; 
Not only prayed, but prophesied in vain! 
And doubt themselves; we still have every 

season, 
And common sense is no longer treason. 
Guiteau in pantalettes who prays 
To God — wondrous are hoops ways! 
If thou be my Redeemer, 
Send Robert to eternity — by steamer. 
A voyage on the ocean he proposes, 
All our prayers thou hast for years rejected, 
(God, and not womankind disposes). 
This very case so very long negleted, 
' O, can it be, O hearken, me, 

Put this vile tongue in equity! " 

Puissant One to neglect grovvn, 
Hears not suggestions — Bob smiles on 
And all the devils out of hells 
And gods that on Olympus roost 
Disport themselves, the shame repels, 
And drinks his toast! 
The woman is a murderous gump, 
Long live great Bob — a bump 
Er fills with justice — equity and hope 
And progress — man no longer grope, 
In superstition's sickening slime; 
Bob is much nearer the Divine. 



TAL. IN HIS TAB. ON TA'F. 

Mickle muckle mickle, 
Tal. in a pickle: 
Rub-a-dub-dub, 
Tal. in a tub, 
Brim full of troub; 
Rub-a-dub dab, 
Tal. in his Tab. 

Blab-a-blab blab, 

Tal. in his Tab; 

Gab-a-gab gab 

Jab-ajab jab, 

Sucli a Tab, 

Is a "scab." 

A-B— ab in a Tab! 

What confab-fab-fab 

What prattle, prattle, prattle, 

Jabberish, 

Gibberish, 
Chatter, chatter, chatt er, 

Chatterbox, 
Tab, tab, tab, 

[Tableaux!] 

PROBLEM FOR ROOSTERS. 

Man is a cell, man is a sell, 
Excuse, I pardon beg, 
There always is a hen a hen 
Before there is an egg. 

The belief of Cause or Origin has changed, 

Unreasonable to one deranged! 

Herbert Spencer: "There is an unknowable 

(is/) power behind all. 
Noah Porter: "Spencer is a fool." 
He writes him atheist, 
A reverend professor with a theologic tongue and 

fist. 
Misrepresents then optics set above(?) 
Would transform all by law of love! 
Is this merely a verbal trick, 
Hitting Herby a love-lick? 

We witness the fanatic to "philosophic calm," 
Who must receive it straight — the theologic 

d— n. 

Go on philosophic rant, 

Assume, but never make God, Mr. Kant, 

And this he calls Reality, stale Common Sense, 
I vow, 

Please tell us how, please tell us now! 

Agnostic, prognostic, sceptic all along, 

Now spoils it all — the debate to renew to pro- 
long, 

Oh, Mr. Kant, 'twill never do, 

Noah whacks you up in Pious Review. 

God's existence hangs dangling, 

By a postulate is strangling. 

Alas! alas, that a spec- 
ulator hangs up Deity by the neck! 

And then alas! all our laws 

Go working on without a Cause! 

This is faith quite rational, 

(All religion is emotional;) 



HUNCH. 



13 



Based on ideational supersensuous 

Quite contentious, ontological proof. 

Every idea —what a one — is a Truth 

Anchored to teteology — good! 

Moral too — when it would. 

A fine-spun theory of dialectics, subtle, pro- 
found, 

To use their phrase "falls to the ground." 

I want a First Cause, I demand it — 

Anon his Paw — bastard? understand it! 

Kant's cured by borrowing self-knowledge, 

Professors have to pack their college. 

Oh, Noah, Noah, lay it strong, 

Heart right, tho' head is wrong. 

Lead! Be tongue to mighty surging throng, 

With heads quite right, hearts brave and 
strong, 

God's not belittled — now debated, 

Only enlarged — illuminated! 

The Few for the millions (monetary) the 
swarms for the penny, 

Self-abuse for the few, Self-neglect for the 
many. 

Now Beecher in his pulpit 

With much less sense than wit, 

Much larger than his church of course, 

Not quite as big as all out doors, 

For evolution now he drums, 

Then after it a tune he hums, 

Physical, evolutional, 

Nor knows that there is one also mental; 

Destroys the creeds, kills the church, 

Upon the Bible now, see perch 

The Vulture stuffed with Study, 

From — Nowhere! 

Its clear waters would muddy. 

Upon the Good Book now he roosts 

To smirch it, I deduce, 

That his mere touch of sacred wings, 

Would quite befoul. Secular things, 

Trailed in the dust at his touch. 

Then pious songs! It is too muchl 

A drummer from some fresh Review, 

Assumes to teach both me and you! 

And get the credit, my what robbers 

These preachers are! very jobbers, 

Dealing in, now if you must have the theory in 
short, 

Go to Fiske; Henry is a mere abort; 

I hardly think he read his Master through, 

Spencer — Nor I, had I else to do! 

Fiske! strong men, to make a rhyme 

Firked to the frailties of his time. 

"Beecher's for the theory!" 

Alas! 'twill drive the best away. 

A "rat" that would reach to either side, 

Colossus — they'll split him open wide! 

Knows less of the subject he attempts to 
teach, 

Than it of conclusions it would reach, 

Yet soi disant Generalissimo 

This broad land goes forth to sow 

The truth that he has lately found; 

His evolution is not sound. 



But noisy mouthings — a second growth 

His mind has taken, on my oath. 

The only difference between Bob and Henry, 

Is wide as you will shortly see. 

Both fight the church, both it divide, 

One out, the other in the inside, 

And when the ruin falls, the cheat 

Is lost; Bob views it from a safe retreat. 

One, a manly foe ; the other wolf 

As a lamb arrays himself 

In raiment light, and to deceive 

Is his business: don't believe. 

Yet scorns the honest doubter, 

Will him abuse 

And wink — "it's only a smart ruse, 

I turn in, you turn out, 

And then the field we route, 

You do not drive them in, just see me drive 

them out!" m 

Such monkey shines und never fail 
Does he to show his growing Tail, 
Tho' he wears a long tailcoat is cut 
Lie out of whole "Cloth" — shows his butt, 
To all that seriously incline 
To solve his real ancestral line. 

The motive, here is quite plain, 

The fools rush in if he proclaim, 

No matter what in America 

Is going on, we go to see. 

His "Revolution" I maintain, 

Marched up the hill and down again, 

His "Revolution" raised no smoke, 

Nor fire — if joke, a quite poor joke, 

Tho' rather amusing, 

So let me stop abusing, 

For what's the use 

Of attempting to abuse, Abuse! 

When he opens mouth quite wide, 

Out steps Egotism, Pride, 

Mixed with it a little Wit; 

Profound are never caught at it. 

Then panagyrics the man of Sinai, 

As half — that Christ was whole divine. 

Christ was the son of God 'tis true, 

No more or less am I or you. 

He first to recognize his pap, 

Tho' came He by the route mishap. 

With Henry Ward I now am through, 

Now Colonel Bob I turn to you, 

And all I have to say is go it 

Boots! the flow, the fire, if not the form of 

poet. 
Now I am through, I will have done, 
Fun never came from sadder one." 

[Exit. 

The hearers now had all the roses of medical 
science and ratios of hysterics and hypo. 

The poet was white with anger. 
Alas! he is not through! 

"Imagination — thou edged tool, 
To hard head as well as fool, 



14 



HUNCH 



Fancy has quite asoft, 

Cracked hard head as soft. 

Good old fanatical Gordon 

For prophesying got locked up in Soudan. 

Entered into an alliance 

With lunacy, fantasy and prescience, 

A Christian Prophet with a gun! 

To coax Egypt to Man the Son. 

O, Gordon, thou Son of Fancy, 

Thy Teacher taught nc t militancy; 

All mankind He would release, 

Not hy Krupp guns, but gentle Peace. 

Christians now possess the merit 

Of blotting letter and the spirit, 

Bringing chaos out of order, 

By quiet, gentle Christian murder. 

Mormon in the prime of life, 

Talmage: "Sheridan, gun and knife. 

Turn canister and shell and shot 

Upon this miserable rot; 

Turn bayonet and shot and shell 

Upon this seraglio of hell. 

Blot out the filthy prostitute!" 

Toot, O, Talmage, toot and toot. 

War-horse, battle gash and bullet, 

Trample Rooster likewise Pullet; 

Christ the man corrected ills 

With the Word, not leaden pills. ■ 

Tabernacle froths upon the border, 

Of cold-blooded, sickening murder! 

Morally Talmages' shoes 

Dangle from legal noose. 

Foolish fool who pipes and pipes, 

Not content with all his stripes : 

"Phil, toot up thy bugle, toot," 

Tal. will send his substitute. 

Send Talmage to the walls behind? 

Nay, pilgrim, institute weak mind. 

'Tis peace that guards monogomy, 

And war that breeds polygamy; 

Yet these good men and pure, 

Employ the cause, effect to cure! 

When women war in valleys van, 

Then census shows up, Polyan' 

When sexes you equally divide, 

Poland Polyg's heads you hide. 

But when you shoot down the men, 

Promiscuity is born again. 

Between torty males and forty females, 

One will have one — not many tails. 

One will have one, for it is right, 

Court! beats fighting out of sight. 

Kate Field is raising sand, 

Poor child, she needs a man — a man. 

Stay at home at night, 

Rather than dodging deadly Danite. 

The little weakly Mormon yoke, 

Supplies man with a little joke. 

Statesmn, preacher, never mind 'em, 

Come home they will with tails behind 'em. 

Census should not flight the mind, 

Since i860 has declined. 

And among the sexes — three, 
Males, females and parsons see? 



If, if my memory serve me right, 
I've heard it whispered — haven't you? 
Parsons like a taste or two, 
Let him no more the question beg, 
Rise up camp-meeting chicken leg. 

Few old codgers, healthy to boot, 

Cut a caper with forbidden fruit. 

Let men deride, and women say "fools," 

Raise children — for the Sunday-schools. 

Infidel might raise the right 
To settle hash with cuff and fight. 
Strikes me he should not use the rod 
Who hopts and prays to be like God. 
Talmage quite a small potater, 
When Christ he is an imitator. 
Dismal failure every hour 
He shows up suchmimitic power, 
Oh, Tal who cut up caper, 
Not imitator, but mere aper. 
Here the honor lies : Fulfil your part, 
Fight the devil within your heart. 
Talmage, turn, you are hell bent, 
Here is the stool, heie, here repent! 
Repent, repent, repnt and live! 
"God" may, but man will not forgive. 
What a charming paradox, 
When christianized fight pagan cocks, 
England with her war and wealth. 
Shows Christ in her poor in health. 
"God rules" Gordon can't reject, 
Though God and England him neglect, 
So long as eucharist can reach him, 
Experience vainly tries to teach him, 
Still rides up on his muscle, 
Rations only blood corpuscle. 
Doesn't know he's in a "pinch," 

"1 20,000,000, 000,000 of 'em to cubic inch." 

Rejects transubstantiation, trim, 

Eucharist gave enough for him. 

Give Gordon credit — he's not a quack, 

Plain, stark, wild-eyed maniac. 

Here let us close the story 

Of the Christian predatory. 

Settled fact that such prescience 

Is founded on pure nescience 

No man is a Mormon, good one, 

In the faith the female fails, 

For its excess is not of males, 

Utah, then, a dire omen, 

Will men therefore war on women? 

Because forsooth, because high strung, 

They fell in the arms of B(r)ig(h)amy Young? 

Why should "pars" smart under rubs, 

Because among fair women there are scrubs. 

Once bowed down arise and prance, 
Cable wretched Rechepin in France! 
So much science has to say, 
Poet, here is poetry! 
Science would intercept thy theme, 
Nescience, hence "Les Blaspheme" 
Rechepin as he grows strong, 
Mark it, will likely change his song. 



HUNCH. 



1: 



Kick as he does causality, 

Damn damnation ingeniously; 

Let him go, it will not hurt, 

Let him snap and tear his shirt. 

Let him turn poetic verse, 

At order let him howl and curse! 

At harmony let him shake his head, 

In garret and behind wood shed. 

Let him glare, let him point, 

His scorn at Superstition stiff in joint! 

Hostile let him go at front and head, 

Fool will find yet its long since dead! 

Then, not till then, will he begin 

To kill the fool in Rechepin! 

Rechepin his god has lost, 

In space his soul by grim fate tossed, 

Fear or hope he will not own, 

"Disciples " — goes it not alone! 

Why then hope, why then pray? 

Wretchedness wants company! 

Men who desire to destroy 

Religion along with its alloy, 

Who set their pens against delusions 

Black and back ground set in fair illusions, 

Who rob the wretched of his Blest, 

Who knock ''Supreme" both hell and west, 

Take by his horns devil Deist, 

Ruffle front arranged by Pantheist, 

Wrench the fang of the Within 

Men like Rechepin, Jean. " 

Who lay stiff ad conscience pangs, 

And snatch 'em bald by their bangs 

Rob ideal of its glow, 

Tear duct dry! No nose to blow! 

Down with this silly strife, 

Which builds a cab for future life ; 

Down at once all present pain, 

Fatme is a lie in vain! 

Drown the whisperings seductive, 

To present order so destructive. 

Even that trick appliance, " 

That apotheoses science! 

Oh, how he gloats in extreme, 

In triumph kills Divine Obscene! 

Laughs at, curses, hisses the hoax, 

On it builds a thousand jokes, 

Turns again at midnight hour, 

Hurls his force with savage power, 

Then anon in sadness moans, 

Bears his life away in groans. 

Wrong is thy plan to destroy all glory, 

Hie thee to thy laboratory, 

Quit riding such a stupid donkey, 

Study anatomy of ape and monkey. 

Employ your — ha! ha! mind — find the True, 

As we Sons of Britain do! 

Be sure you're right be sure, be sure, 

This, Frenchman, is the cure. 

Hold: Go liberate yourself from strife, 

And breathe for once one breath of life, 

Now nature is a jargon mutter, 

Music she distinct will utter. 

From thy racket stop an hour — 
What a treat, 



A second, man — sour? 
Now how sweet! 

If atheist, why cut up so, 
Why kick, if you have the true? 
Why rage, foam and threat and surge, 
Is possession such a scourge? 

Preachers and preachers all out of breath, 
Parsons' Conventions that talk "God" to death, 
Then poets' verse makers to be sublime, 
Always put "God" in the last line. 

For is not evolution — do not fear, 

The Universal Cure-all panacea? 

The rage for knowledge grows apace, 

A pace, and jolly thrilling is. 

To-day the whole of our race. 

On science up to snuff she is, 

She gets so deep in institute, 

That churches crumble from neglect, 

Dresses mind in this new suit 

Damned, now turns out the elect 

Children are now bo ; sler- 

Ous. No longer pine in cloister, 

Cuss all divine spiritual, 

Unless it fits sensational, 

Un'ess St. Paul can stand experiment — St. 

Paul 
Must go to the (devil) wall — must fall, 
In science never was such fun, 
Found before, since world begun, 
H'm! poetic, but not so, 
World begun! oh, no, oh, no! 
If church ever annoyed the mind, 
It was when it was behind 
The times. Now we only confess 
To Priestly Biogenesis; 
Girls who wept on mourners' stool, 
Now join Huxlev's Sunday-school; 
Exchange at once, "article" effete 
For molecules so dear and sweet, 
Tear off neck charms, her beads now dull, 
A necklace of some dug up skull. 
Crania, Patagonia, Neandethal so thick, 
Acephalous race! sit on dalicko, and brand. yc- 

cephalic, 
Oh, my, how cute, shouts every dear, 
We fall in love with protozoa, and you think 

queer, 
We have life— our existence 
Rolls in waves of least resistance. 
We are now so strong and able, 
Fie, eucharist! for dissecting table. 
Religion out! we do not mope, 
Since Microscope and Spectroscope, 
Quite forgotten are our prayers, 
We have other avatars. 
Darwin cleared the world of smoke, 
And revealed — shame on if — hell a joke! 
Creeds— true men have robbed and killed the 

creeds, 
In '-Nineteenth Century" they give us screeds. 
We now no longer fear Old Nick, 
Fashion to be a heretic. 



16 



HUNCH. 



We are free at last ; it makes us furious 

To think "Belief" so queer, so curious, 

That our forefathers could not see 

Relationship to the chimpanzee. 

The fever caught at the Boston school, 

Sweet girls dote on molecule. 

Come all seekers of the true, 

What? we cannot monkey with you? 

Then go and live in night half-breeds, 

Your ignorance scieuce far exceed.-.! 

Go to superstitions eel!, 

Leave us to our — well, 

Go, be like the country fright, 

Who live(?) in deep, abysmal night. 

Be not a man, be a mouse, 

It may keep thee out of mad-house. 

This way you get your due, 

Then the Good Lord pity you. 

A mind thus to heart takes strife, 

Knows not a-b-c of life. 

Who break their necks to Sunday-school, 

Who never met a molecule, 

-* * •:■:■ * * 

Richepin, you are undone, 
Here's life — join us in the fun. 

Then, O, man, would you lose sight 
Of the whole religious fright? 
Look through scientifocscope, 
Look — live — know, then grope. 
Look once — 'tis due— freely by touch 
The magic spring — you've suffered much, 
Your mind no longer shall be blank, 
v Look! you won't? Must science spank 
Music, drama and the stage, 
Last relics of the insane age, 
Mark it, intellectual 
Has outgrown the mad emotional, 
Is a step into the clear, 
From the mist, incongruous, laughter, anger, 

fear. 
Enmity, scorn, revenge and rage, 
Were possessessd by the savage. 
Courting, jealousy and love, 
These links reach not the above. 
They play their part — once necessary part, 
Man walks on feet, not head and heart, 
Walk erect — straight, aplomb, 
Man has gained his equilibrium. 



ARGUMENT. 

When the Poet finished I know not ; 1 
only know that I discovered the lo^s of my toe 
to my trunk, which gave me exquisite suffering. 
I traveled for nine years in earth, sea and air, 
without success, to find the missing member 
upon my return just where — where it had been 
all the while. I upbraided it for thus deceiv- 
ing my sight, and then began my occupation 
with zeal and hope. 

The Poet greeted me and informed me that 
a convocation of philosophers and scientists had 
been seeking admission ever since my depart- 
ure. 



They entered, and for days nothing but the 
two themes were broached, the Poet reading 
his jangle ever and anon. 

The poet rehearses : 

It is the way of those inured 
To suffering to be caricatured. 
For if they suffer for a lie, 
The lie .we nail, we crucify ! 

" Stop ! " shouted nineteen earth worms sim- 
ultaneously, " stop, we implore thee our Master, 
and hear us !" Alas for me — they too had 
caught the rhyming fever, and now of course 
must read them ! I roared much for one given 
over to so much gravity. Yes, I roared in a 
tickle that went to the very ends of my fingers 
for the Poet was dejected! He no longer had a 
monopoly; he now must listen — and I could 
not have selected greater regimen for the pesky 
spirit that had kept me in such painful disgust 
for days. "Hold," they cried, then seven 
arose to read at once! Then there was trouble 
— aye, angry words as to who should be heard 
first. I was called upon to decide! Eight 
hundred other earth worms having jcined the 
ranks of rhymers all with their rhymes fresh 
and hot from their brains. I settled it thus: 
All who had rhymes to read were to crawl into 
the palm of my hand first — then we would see. 
My! how they did come. After getting a grip 
on all of them I sniffed them up my nose, only, 
alas! to hear them rehearsing each his own, as 
they crawled out my ear. Then I took my lit- 
tle toe to my trunk and unlocked it and depos- 
ited the poets in the bottom, where only one at 
a time was admitted through the key hole, the 
strongest of course being first to read, while 
the weaker ones had thus the more time to pre- 
pare, erase, re-read and so on. They did not 
suffer by being held back. Only it was very 
mortifying to those that were released — all the 
appreciative hearers being locked up! 

As each one read he retired, and in a short 
while it seemed to me that they each and all 
were reading the very same rhymes. I was un- 
able to distinguish between them. About 
preachers and scientific terms, and Socrates and 
such stuff. 

There seemed no connection between the 
matter presented, some beginning where an- 
other had left off. But hear them in alphabet- 
ical order: 

? 

A. EARTH-WORM: 

[FROM GKUBLESS STREET.] 



Every thought (never mind the sense), 
Every whim, will have its audience; 
Since man the Thoughtful sought nor found, 
In brooding less confusion, hence more sound. 
Socrates' voice is louder heard 
To-day, oh! ink-slingers, he never .vrote a 
word ! 



HUNCH. 



17 



Yet permeated with divine spark, 

(With his tongue he made his mark.) 

He merely talked — nor ever laugh 

Was heard. Soc. was no walking pantagraph. 

? 

B. EARTH-WORM. 



Then Pope, oh! what a drudging ass was he! 
Out of a thousand, a dozen lines we see. 



C. EARTH-WORM. 



To teachers new mankind is ever prone, 
To teachers true, and every man his own 
God, Christ, philosopher p&r se, 
Diagnostician his own M. D., 
And no longer in the Past we grovel, 
We hail tht* e Chief, if thy book be novel. 
Then come! receive at once a blaze 
Of Glory — victims of the latest craze! 
With ears polite — the surging throng, 
Will crop them where they are too long. 
Then come; we want exception to the rules, 
The field is ripe — now reap the crop of — 
The word is dull and meaningless to-day, 
The fool may be the wise in fol array. 
"But we should have a spank. — 
Yes, a spanking machine for every crank. 
But if this shouid come from Church or State, 
Pray who'd be left to operate! 



D. EARTH-WORM. 



A mild complaint — no doctor, for it will not 

kill, 
And, if it be serious, he works no miracle. 



E. EARTH-WORM. 



The preacher and the layman — two fools met, 
Which is the bigger — that's to be settled yet; 
You are the dupe, say not a word agin it, 
Every lime lie shakes your hand he finds a 

dollar in it. 
Let it go empty a time or two, 
And his cordiality will be as empty, too. 
Slaves to preachers in this country, 
A foolish woman, what a fool is she! 
Doctrines that dethrone the little brain; 
Creeds that are washed in bloody stain; 
Put on your face, rush to the steeple, 
To get your creed for maddening the people, 
And pay the robber — cannibal is he, 
That eats his Jesus, flock, and enemies all three! 



F. EARTH-WORM. 



Fight errors in truth; no sin, 

Nor hide a blotch in his Bible is bold, 



In theology the evidence is long since in, 
Not so of science we all can hold. 

Accept the truth wherever found, 

The pagan, all is holy ground. 

Christ ain't Peace, theology is night, 

Some more theological irenicons or Stagyrite, 

Th« n ethnic god of fragmentation, 

Oil apod — crazy-quilt — stagnation; 

Or scolloped, filigree, fantastic, vain, 

Oh, give it to us straight and plain, 

The scient says, "I'm with you, raise my hat, 

But man's a lump of protoplasm for a' that.' 



! 



G. EARTH-WORM. 



Pleasure is a sin — now this thought treasure 
That sin is pain always, and not a pleasure. 

? 

H. EARTH-WORM. 



Your silly parsons, who c e minds quite fill 

A sib< hat, while out of it is nil; 

And then I like the agnostic well, 

And damn the egotistic infidel. 

Your "truly good" that they ate our betters, 

Because forsooth, their thought is buund in 

fitters, 
And circumscribed, as if space had a limit 
With themselves, and nothing more was in it. 



I. EARTH-WORM, 



There are many "crying evils" preachers — can 
it be 

A laughing evil's Robert G? 

They ciy out to their God, who, if he hears an- 
swers not,' 

If he hears not is a "dummy." Mein Gott! 



J. EARTH-WORM. 



A literary trick, so juvenile that Fame smiles 
And wonders — while he all great reviles; 
So \oung, precocious; and then he grows 
To dullness; his puberty ain't prose. 
Christ, the "loafing tramp," he that kissed the 

rod 
Of Religious Persecution, and got a job as 

God. 
The Prince of Martyrs kissed the rod 
Of Religious Persecution and got a job as 

God. 
The later Christs are in their graves; 
Their hands are stiff and cannot save. 
We have done with them have out-grown 
Them all; now every man's his own. 



18 



HUNCH. 



K. EARTH-WORM. 



Highest type of Circassian race, 

Put the Negro in his place; 

Contest the lie with might and main, 

Bible fits a nigger brain. 

Same too easy to believe, 

Fourteen years will it receive, 

Cast away at seventeen, 

Originality is here I ween. 

All arguments — 

To rounded man is an offense. 

They do not do nor satisfy, 

For meat on it "preach" rely. 

Yclept smart men say it is true 

As gospel — well, that will dc! 

Many smart men of it drink, 

No telling what smart men will think. 

Many good man by it die, 

And live on useless piety. 

Have your religion, the sport is blind, 

Mine? h — m! has escaped my mind. 

Science, then; why abuse it? 

We know enough, but do not use it. 

Science still is on the boom, 

Mad-house has limited room. 

From spectrum analysis appliance, 

To talking science as a science; 

If life is short, if it be long, 

Do something, though you do it wrong! 

To believe takes no capacity, * 

Much learning is mendacity. 

Scientsliv^, if they deride, 

Why believe a lie to be "on the safe side?' 

Science now has freely boasted: 

"Believe a lie — rather be roasted!" 

Go where you will, what will you find, 

In crazy-quilted, miscellaneous mind? 

Copy' returned, rejected, 

Miscellaneous mind is so neglected. 



L. EARTH-WORM. 



Man in error upon every hand, 

Denies what he does not understand. 

Will Error her way ne'er mend, 

Nor damn what it can not Comprehend? 

Libraries, tomes of every nation, 

Contain much error — little information; 

Patience, science with eye upon the True, 

Illuminates but hides the scientist from view; 

Sees God in every thing, and brings a rupture, 

Because he is obscured by the Holy Scripture. 

God there is in tape worm, planet and germ, 

not Bib., 
The measly thing in that is infirm fib. 
Let mankind ra'her go it blind, 
Prophesy is infirmity of the mind; 
Science, laws of health now every <vhere, 
Says down with dreams, and filth and lousy 

long hair. 



That tyrants wrong will toast after this, 
Doesn't add to virtue's distress much bliss. 
Bible does not give to one his right, 
Mule must gall and pull himself to night. 
God of old — nor these when fasting, 
Never concealed about him the everlasting. 
If man is going to Abe from this footstool, 
Where in hell is justice for the mule? 
Man bound not for heaven, bound for hell, 
Sceptics worse off than asses, what a sell! 
No sce-tic yet you liars ever denied, 
Your God in Little, they only magnified. 
Then rise Philosophy, nor could the question 

beg, 
Showed infirmity of thought to affirm or even 

neg. 
None but pious lunatics 
Would think material meant lifeless somatics. 

f 

M. EARTH-WORM. 



Jesus Christ is dead upon this cross, 
Is warmed to life by lowly men, 
Is stiff upon his cross again! 
Within the lute, there is a rift, 
Man's friend upon his cross is stiff! 

Persecution is now in vain, 

That Rijrht or Ch ist would come again! 

It seems that men are "out of head." 

Who place their hopes upon Him dead; 

Or how e'erfore the future, who 

Deserts them in the Now. 

His teachings too, oh, such a fund, 

Except to infidels are moribund! 



N. EARTHWORM. 



Money ? ? ? all the rage, 

From day to day its war we wage; 

Percentage is our highest God, 

Poor man feels its cruel rod. 

Now in every school is Taught 

Public domain, Economy, "sold" or "bought." 

Tariff, Revenue, Currency, Banking, 

The Profesor is his scholars spanking, 

Over National taxation, Railway, Navigation 

laws, 
Public lands "Neighbors," give us pause! 
Labor, strikes, Communism by our collar, 
And masquerading, lying silver dollar: 
While Shakspeare's a gigantic fizz, 
Because he had no eye for Biz! 
Money, ready cash down on are lazy 
Poets, and Christians crazy, 
Who place their faith upon a what? 
I give it up, themselves know not. 
Money, money, hellish stuff, 
To test I've never had enough. 
Humanity its heart is stiff and cold. 
The poet orator, is bought for gold! 
The glittering band has come to stay, 
We kick not if it comes our way. 



HUNCH. 



19 



O. EARTH-WORM. 



The scheme of P. Pilate &Co., has had a long 

run, 
P. Pilate, O, God, and J. Christ his son; 
But all things have their time to curl, 
Up and stink in this whirl; 
Freedom of thought, a change has brought, 
And that change is Freedom and thought. 
Little thought less emancipation, 
Much freedom and a thoughtful nation. 
France it seems much thought can stand, 
Per contra cold potato Ireland. 

[IBID.] 

Gelatinous nodule is our pap, 

Not Genesis — wide of mark — mishap; 

I had rather grow up from a worm, 

Than ^row down from seraph germ. 

"Designer" if you will, found it as easy, 

To float a planet as a butterfly so breezy; 

I maintain, dear sir, yes, I do, by thunder, 

That a soap bubble is a. ; . great a wonder. 

How can the critics be so blind? 

Creation got along before the human mind; 

She run it long before our brain, 

She'll keep it up when we are vain! 

We give you evolution and you perplex us, 

Because forsooth, we hain't the nexus! 

You accept the hypothesis by Gol. 

But would explain it by Paley's theol! 

Never mind explanation, it spoils dear souls, 

Great mystery (explain it not !) consoles — 

You have your nat. theology and raise objec- 

• tion, 
Kase we've diskiver super nat. selection. 



P. EARTH-WORM. 



Are we ignoble sons (downward) of noble 

squires, 
Or noble sons of (worms) ignoble sires? 
You've had your way you (spoiler devil) 

Spiler, 
We'll have our'n or bust a biler. 
We find it as tough to charm a charmer, 
As to reform a peg-is-sot reformer. 
To one infidel idiot, there is about 
One hundred checked for never-mind, via 

church route. 
To call a man idiot, plain as can be, 
Is done for self delense, don't you see. 
Preachers to point the race to hell, 
Who would find it just as well! 

I 

Q. EARTHWORM. 



The preacher no longer serenely passes 
Along his way as one of God's asses, 
But nervously treads to his retreat, 
The people now write him down plain dead 
beat. 



R. EARTHWORM. 

Knowledge perishes wisdom won't keep, 

To-morrow 'twill be as a bleat of a sheep; 

The wise erudite off at schools, 

In an hour turn to fools. 

And there remain*-; we bewail, 

You've noticed that Plato's stale! 

We read now just what may happen 

Aristotle is mold on "accidents" we batten. 

The eyes have the ascendency 

No longer think but look at tendency! 

Nor seeing it at all; blind as night 

In this day of broad daylight. 



S. EARTH-WORM. 

The verbal crew, ah me! 

Sequel of his words not with his first agree. 

Some use them plain, sesquipedalian and 

strong. 
Try every trick to be seen in sapient throng. 
In the inferno, the 1st One 
Is silence— Soc and Plato, He between 
A figure head of Christ that saves 
The talking two, the two thieves 
That rob themselves of rest 
And reason too, they oft confessed. 

The thinking sages what a train, 
Have guts like clock-work in the brain. 

There's many a one in convict garb, 

And in that garb will die, 
That hides a better heart 

Than exposed by you and I. 

Once the spirit had not where 
To lay its head; in temples scorned tp enter 
there; 

Now massive piles to superstition reared, 
And the debate in England warm it waxes, 

That they have all the spirit of Christ seared, 
Now they must pay their taxes! 

They say it loud with tongue and fist — 
'•God" always was a pauper, on the delinquent 
"list." 



T. EARTHWORM. 



They whom Dante couldn't use. 
The poet-pest, Dante'd abuse. 



U. EARTH-WORM. 

The parson now is gone from all things in our 

day, 
Tho' thousands of fools the parson yet may 

sway, 



20 



HUNCH, 



The priest-hood knows its losing grip, and 'gins 

to quake with fear, 
Tho' thousands of fools join over and over 

I aver, every year. 



V. EARTHWORM. 

Run 'gainst Nature's laws, she turns about, 
Retaliates, and knocks you out. 



W. EARTHWORM. 

Under cloud of philosophic profundities, 
Aesthetics, maxims, and theories, 
Which go oft coruscations-like pop-cracker, 
And leave the darkness still the blacker! 
Wail, lament long-haired religious hydria, 
Evolution is now taught ex-cathedria. 
Taught and maintained to kill, 
In the very Green(est) ville! 
Wrong-doing is a heavy price, 
Nature gets away with vice! 
Depend upon Self not the Correctors, 
Government boards or inspectors, 
To individual is sheer 
Nonsense! Reformers interfere! 
Intuitional or intra, 
Sensational or extra. 

In spite of whining Mallock or Carlyle's mis- 
giving, 
"Life" will yet be worth the living! 
Sweat, perspire and for 
It miss the celestial ichor! 



! 



X. EARTHWORM. 



To live at peace, 

Christ-like avoid the asses and the mules 

* (priests.) 

Make you some rules, 
Stick to them — and banish social fools. 

Then to fare well: here's how, 

Be no man's fool — no woman's tool, 

Nor take a foolish vow. 

You have your rule of life — I've no objection, 

So long as I am "privileged exception." 

f 

Y. EARTHWORM. 

Pulpit preacher in every station, 

Is a little go-off !!!! exclamation. 

So Ruskinesque conterfeit sesttietics, 

To Concord school of didascalics; 

From darkness and dogma, 

To sweetness and lightway. 

Oh, that which speaks ain't flesh and blood, 

But chemicals is understood! 

God so "large'' that he is quite unwieldy, 

Or so "small" that he cannot be found 

When wanted ; or concealed is He 

Or She, square, medium or round? 



'Tis weak to think of the pearly 
Gates, as taught by Rev. Extra Early. 
We are all d.tmned, we are all cussed, 
By whining Rev. Extra Dry as Dust. 

Z. EARTHWORM. 



Just see the sects they fight with beak and 

claw, 
And just escape the minions of the law. 
The Catholic, Jew, Protestant ever right, 
And ever ready to prove it by a fight. 
A foretaste of their hells— pall mall, 
The peaceful man only is the serene infidel. 



So here we are the alphabet exhausted, yet 
the trunk, alas, one turmoil of fighting poets! 

Those to follow shall be known as be- 
longing to the second period. Each will be 
designated by an exclamation point: 

! 

The preacher is a fool, 
The hearer is a clown, 
Church spires p'intin' up, 
Souls a p'intin' down. 

! 

A God that carnalizes and congeals 
Upon any old systems all 
Nebulous — His presence feels 
Like nothing damp — it stinks a. pall, 
Says Ruskinesque the eccentric, 
Who has no God if it be concrete, 
Dogmatic, systematic local or physical, 
But He must be quite biological; 
Material that anything but rational, 
Sensational at last is ic/ea-tional. 
Not exactly evolution plan, 
But goes the Dt(o)scent of man. 

! 

There was a time — oh! what a Season, 

Thai Faith should get atop of Reason! 

Giving fuddletops the fits 

Deranging clearer, surer wits. 

Of Reverend Neverend be skittish, 

His is a clear case of misfiiish. 

Still he would be a Teacher, 

The logic of the Methodist Preacher! 

See 'em, hear 'em, see 'em. 

One alone would stock museum! 

When men's wits shall go aright, 

Day will be day — not night. 

Mind went astray, hence all our ills, 

And the devil foots the bills. 

Oh, Reverend, oh, loving Pastor, 

Ignorant of arts as a Master, 

Dread disease — softener of the mind, 

Then nescience only there you find. 

Put that with this, this with that, 

Lo! vacuum beneath his hat! 



HUNCH. 



21 



No more then with prank or quip, 

Parson long since lost his grip. 

Folly to keep up a trail — a sin, 

Faith long since too dead to skin; 

111 logic that to butt one's head 

Against a thing so long since dead, 

Against a faith now defunct, 

Vs. parson or moribund monk. 

Peace to the asses they've had their day, 

Of trouble, war and quite poor pay. 

! 

Now then to the man of Mind, 

To the man of Mental Force; 

I must be cruel to be kind, 

Take it as a matter of course. 

No criticism can be too severe, 

For him who trifles with the head, 

Or stuffs with Sophistry our ear, 

Or jumbles up the aforesaid, 

Driving men (women) escapes) to insanity, 

Just to tickle his abnormal bump of vanity. 

Vengeance on 'em now I reek, 

Show their mount ii nous range of cheek; 

Indicted here — a case in fact, 

No fancy, under Vagrant Act. 

! 
The fools are bent with eager brain, 
On meditation's way to lame. 

! 

Worthless mankind, I now aver, 

Mental vagrant! 'Tis philosopher. 

If a figure stands for statistician, 

O, symbolizes metaphysician. 

A history I propose to tell, 

Of this pauper intellectual 

Poorer than all in this respect, 

A poverty struck in intellect. 

The poor in purse we ever find, 

But now we deal with poor in mind. 

From shore to shore, from Sun to Sun, 

Tell us pray what has he ever done? 

Butt, butt, butt, on the cold, gray stones, ah, 
see! 

Good Lord, have pity on said crew — and me. 

All his work from the top of his (intellect) 
bent, 

He leaves us orphaned without a thought or a 
cent. 

Full many a fly and spider has he caught, 

And buried amid the wrecks of his dome of 
Thought, 

A man full reckless, really hell-bent, 

Is he who follows Imperial Thought Transcend- 
ent. 

They who want thorns and thistles 

Break their shanks when e'er he whistles. 

His time could hardly be spent much worse, 

In the sound of a grunt pachydermatous; 

In fact, I am constrained to say, 

As fructiferous i- a Long Eared Bray. 

The philosopher when he is frank, 

Lets out the cat — you draw a blank. 



! 

Sh! Socrates, thou shade, 
Inventor of talk; t^e hen that laid; 
This cackle of the Cock of the Talk, 
From breakfast to noon, noon to night, 
Talker worked with main and might. 
Subj cts exhausted, more were invented, 
Never was the talker crank contented. 
O, Sojrates, O, little Socs, 
Honor to the chatter-box! 
He t ilked of tr t es, and stars and Toads, 
And Before and After speeches and odes, 
"And through it ad Zmtippe never went, 
Through the old chap's breeches and fished 

up a cent." 
But as b d is there is some little good, 
From his rostrum he hustled up kindling 

wood. 
From his Autocratic Throne of Thought 
When thirsty, water then he sought, 
And this man whose head was a head, 
Often had water when he didn't have bread. 
A statement here I should make, 
Absence of bread ,vas not the presence of 

cake. 
Shame on thou Socrates for inventing rules, 
That breed even now philosophy fools; 
Shame on thou Socrates, shame if I must, 
Thy evils still live if thy talker is dust. 

Foolish mortal why despise, 

Men of mental exercise, 

Men of br.un receptively, 

Men of thought activity. 

While sluggards sleep and dullards snore, 

His mind is up at work at four; 

From four till late doth cogitate, 

Universal postulate. 

I know I've mentioned not his name, 

The dullest guesser knows the same. 

Fur exposing all the gods, 

Socrates faced big odds, 

Worse than that, in the strife, 

Socrates lost his life. 

Had Socrates ex josed mankind, 

They would have hailed him r s sublime. 

He had his way and drunk the drug 

From which he died without a strug. 

"You swallow gods, your mind is lame," 

Then Socrates became a name. 

For exposing all word twisters, 

From mildest to the toughest blisters; 

For dissecting sophs and sages, 

And shaking them across the ages, 

They will invite their ghosts to rise, 

Point finger at the otherwise, 

And hope perhaps to drive me frantic, 

With freaky caper, foolish antic. 

I've long since done with gobblin gills, 

Hunting hash precludes such ills; 

My duty is to turn them over, 

That publisher may live in clover. 

I make a name — never mind my neck, 

Name! Honored, except when to a check. 



22 



HUNCH. 



Fame! thou evil omen, 

Enough for us — not washerwoman. 

Socrates escaped this fun, 

He never had his washing done. 

O, Socrates, thou Prince of gabbing, 

Inventor of the art of Talking, 

Perfector of the art of babbing, 

Peripatetic talked while walking, 

Nothing skipped all things took heed, 

So simple, one could run and read. 

Cured all ills with his tonguish balm, 

Held nothing — all things in his palm! 

In conversa'ion, always ample, 

Set the world a bad example, 

Sophronisus had a wordy so'n, 

The infant could not hold his tongue. 

Had no time to laugh or weep, 

Even chirruped while fast asleep. 

Innocent of one offense, 

Never dealt in sad nonsense. 

In war set down a coward, 

In peace, cyclonic blowhard. 

Oh, words without connecting link, 

Taught men to talk if not to think. 

Of Socrates as now depicted, 

Of ignorance all men convicted, 

Summoned Mankind to trial, 

Knowledge is purely nil. 

In death left the world his scoff, 

Plato took up where he left off. 

Of much that Good Old Plato said, 

Convicts him of a nugin head. 

In some things somewhat greater 

Than Socrates the Agitator. 

All things I give them lief, 
But never ask philos belief. 
Your ignorance angers him, 
Go way, great bore, but petit man ! 
But here I will let the cat out ; 
Philosopher believes not, yet does not doubt. 
Here, as the cat is let out, 

To formulate Belief, cannot, nor formulate a 
Doubt! 

[Exit. 

Now, to Science let us bow, 
Let us milk this modern cow. 
Shall we see of what s uff 
She is made ? Good 'nough. 
Science and religion double, 
Science gives religion trouble. 
Science, science, what a lie ! 
Preacher gives it a black eye, 
Science grows ; — " If we must, we must, 
Sanctify now what once we cursed! 
Science, that we misused so wide, 
We now must use on our side! 
We tried to give the thing a fit, 
Failed — abused it, now ive use it! 
Let us .now our way amend, 
Staff of lif^, (breai! and butter), on it depend." 
Here, however, the ground is not covered; 
Celsus Bit,le overthrew before science was dis- 
covered. 



Oh, preacher, if of sense, use your senser 1 
Voltaire lived before Evolution, Darwin or 

Spencer. 
Science much of the false slays, 
But reason kills idolatries. 
The backs of Pan and Appollo are moss, 
And Christ is " stiff as hell " upon his cross ; 
Christ is dead again upon his cross. 
Before Cosmic riddle, cell or protoplasm, 
Were sifted from usurper fantasm, 
Reason demolished fallacy theistic, 
And made tue preachers at ihe belly sick. 
To you it may be news, 

Reas"on pulpits angered before great Reviews. 
Reason, not science convicts ! 
Superstiti n, fetish, crucifix. 
Before man owns a mind, 
Is taught the rot — lie Divine, 
Genuflection, cowardice and prayer 
Is born of compound ignorance and fear, 
These things, of nescience born, 
Wither before philosophic scorn. 
The archetypal ape, mammals too, 
Love and hate like me and you. 
They, of course, all draw blanks, 
Ignorant of all prayer and thanks; 
Superstition and its bony hand, 
No longer has its grip on our land; 
Revelation, the light of mind, will muddy, 
To reverse, go to your study ! study ! 
To believe so easy and so blind, 
Man, think ! think ! you have a mind. 
Christianity is sure to stunt 
The mind, and make its keenness blunt. 
Idolatry puts out the lighted fire 
Of reason — that Gorgon and Chimera dire! 
Myths, lies, horrid shapes, 
Man should not see, nor even apes. 
Clouding deep the clear sute sight, 
Turning reason back in night. 
Instead of hearing science wondrous song, 
Will stick to something easy, be it wrong! 
Cruelty and ghosts, out of such throes 
Of chaos ! strange that reason e'er arose ! 
Born it is — All hell can't drive it back, 
Though disorder dire, and preachers at it whack! 
Nebulae never cohered ; orb never grew, 
Bible good enough for me and nigger — if not 

for you. 
Amcebia protoplasmic forms, infusoria all 
Are naught to me — little head appal. 
Primeval ooze, I do not go, 
Damn Bruno and Galileo. 
Ichthyosauri, mastodon, on every fact 
Of life I turn my back. 
Live and die in blinding night, 
Curse the help that offers light. 
Damn your theory, doctrine, hypothesis or de- 
posit 
Strata — was it for it I am born, was it? 
It is so easy to sin and sing a psalm, 
Live like a hog — go to Jerusalem. 
For all your pains fie, oh, fie ! 
Hell you will go when you die. 



HUNCH. 



23 



Down with your midnight oil lucubrations — 
lectures laboratory, 

I am on my way to — hell or glory 

We all learning discovery only tickles, 

To see grave fathers blinking through spec- 
tacles. 

Quixotic to me, if not to you. 

Was Darwin's foolish hunt without a clue. 

Many others of the noble race , 

Bring offering — and you spit in their face. 

That you may read the secrets of the world, 

Unfeeling wretch — if a potato — cold ! 

Life to him, you think, was all in vain, 

Before death touched the chemic crystals of 
his little brain, 

Then turn to old wives' tales threads of idle 
prophets, 

Or Priest or Pope, what they think of it. 

Church bells — Jesus! Madonna. Beads, 

Are all that sinful souls find needs. 

More blessings Invention conferred, 

Than ever dropped from sky or "God." 

Go on, and all such Ghosts protect ; 

Martyrs still will man perfect. 

But then, to draw this thing down fine, 

Ghost lives not but in your line. 

Get an idea in your brain, 

Ghost then will curl up and die again. 

"Oh, God is good" — for 

Nothing, now is understood. 

Here I will quit forever this pest, 

Silly — Robs reason of her rest. 

In such a silly strife 

Many men have shortened life. 

On such staff mental will not thrive, 

Though it keeps ignorance alive. 

Why dig up my intellectual mind, 

For pearls of thought to cast at such swine! 

The modern scientific school 

Anchor Faith to Molecule. 

The syllogism ot much use, 

Syllogism valueless. 

Men logicians must dende, 

When that which is affirmed is denied. 

Men with thoughts to tattle, 

For the same have gone to battle. 

Truly Reason now should pause, 

Should men fall out without a Cause? 

Stop and think, stop and think? 

Stopped too long — start and think! 



Let not science be a bug-bear; 
Science has a limit to her sphere. 
Knowledge! when we know what can be 

known, 
To theories no longer prone, 
Theory from certain data, 
Find other fact and theory scatter. 
All theories now are idle, 
Until every fact we bridle. 
Philosophy now reverse it, 
For new discoveries ever curse it. 
Philosophy should be built last, 
Instead of first as in the past. 



On ignorance erect philosophic plan! 

On subsequent facts it will not pan. 

Religion too, preceded, was too previous by 
far, 

Explained!— its beauty thus did mar. 

Let now position reverse, 

Nor stick to cart before the horse. 

With our facts — experience — knowledge unified 

Religion could be built that ihey could not de- 
ride. 

Confucius, Moses and the sages, 

Wrote in the inspired ages. 

Wrote and guessed as best they knew, 

And wrote quite we'l considering too, 

That stars stood still, earth never moved, 

Dreamed such dreams, visions viewed. 

Facts their writings they misconstrued, 

Nor builded better than they knewed! 

Led into a misgiving! 

Phi. science of right living! 

Spiritualist, realist; equally absurd, 

Nomenclature, war of words, in a word. 



The bad believe, and the good doubt, 

God condemns, the devil tuns us out! 

In belief there is a grain of skepticism, 

Like doubt in every other ism. 

Poor is the rule emaciated poor, 

That lays all wrongs at sceptics door. 

In this world of sin and crime 

The believer is the mover prime, 

For educated minds are few, 

Such subterfuge will never do. 

I proclaim, I aver as plain as fact, 

That who know the Bible do not act. 

If this strange paradox is true as can be 

Look elsewhere for the remedy! 

Religion may be revelation, 

But its trial works not regeneration. 

It has had a thorough test of time, 

Still you call it all sublime ! 

Good will come not by hell plan, 

But by adjusting man to man; 

By homology of the whole race, 

By putting each in his right place. 

Otherwise as now all out of gear, 

The wisest cannot help but fear. 

Catholic will out-live Protestant, 

Ignorance one, other cant. 

keliyion is mortal, Christianity is a babe, 

Judaism a man — an honest Abe. 

Mohamet stiffening in its joints, 

Orient Buddah, (reasonable) a long time 

points. 
But die they will — wake up some morn, 
Another truer one is born. 

I 

Religion in 1873, 

You made a most damned fool of me. 
Before through to skepticism I pass, 
And there put on the ears of Ass, 
Both 60 far the times behind, 
Robbers of reason her aplomb mind; 



24 



HUNCH. 



That man should prate and prate and prate, 

Then speculate — ulate — ulate! 

That in this age man is prone, 

To use such stuff on his thinkaphone! 

Theology of Jew produced Cause ideal, 

Low in Conception to the real; 

As manifest to us in every way, 

More wondrous grows it every day. 

Skeptic does not degrade the True, 

But rather elevates his view, 

And cannot stand one cramped, deformed 

And mean little, full of harm, 

Like the Man-like Jew Jeho, 

But accepts the higher glow, 

Sees God (if you will) unfold 

His designs, yet untold. 

Creation in just seven days? 

Still going on if you please! 

Building up, tearing down ngain, 

Finish work! then say amen ! 

But still let us thank the Jew, 

For the morphological view, 

To answer this do yon query? 

Bad things are often necessary. 

There is a soul of good in evil, 

"God" could not exist without the "devil." 

'Tis hard to eradicate the inbred 
And taught idea — for one instead. 
To some men when once you prove, 
They cling to it they would remove ! 
Utter the highest truth, slowly we find 
New thoughts slowly destroy mankind. 
The idea vs. theology is old and stale, 
Yet with men (except a few) does the idea 
prevail. 

? 

• 

The weapon that destroys all 

Verbal — on his htad doth fall; 

Boomerang used by abuser, 

Rebounds again upon the user. 

Philosophy if you would teach, 

Search the laws of things in reach. 

Drop the "noblest use < f life," 

Miid wears out in ''noble" strife. 

Yearn for a niche, play for a place, 

Time erudite will wipe your whereabouts into 
space. 

Thomas Paine and Vol aire 

Beat John Bunyan everywhere. 

Gravity of rt ligious smoke 

Cannot stand a little joke. 

It rukd us for a little while, 

It ruled — we feaied — but now we smile. 

Sermons, funerals, pomp bombastic, 

Treml le at Iconoclastic. 

Christ, Mr J. bv route mishap, 

Take him (Campbellite) repudiate his pap. 

Rid his skirls of such aspersions, 

And other Pauline Jewish versions; 

Religion, how very funny, 

Some take Pap (Jews) but not the Sonny, 

Some take both (Presbyterian) — some thou- 
sands (Romans) — some None. 

Is inventory — since world begun. 



England without representation, because 

Bradlaugh 
Will not take "God oath" law: 
But Voltaire or Mr. Paine, 
Would simply wink and take the same. 
Take it to evade that quarter, 
Science needs a liar (with wink) not a 

martyr. 
Eccentricity is ignorance — quacks, 
It go- s not hand in glove with facts. 
Eccentric is he who knows a thing or two, 
That's false — and thinks that that will do. 
Men will differ and despise, 
Until their minds they equalize. 
Genius is excess of range, 
And critics thinks him "very strange." 
Let man go ultima thule — full length, 
Opposition it is that gives us strength. 
Let wakeful observation 
Review belief of every nation. 
Let proud philosophy, with god-like view, 
Observe the Universe for me and you. 
Let mankind themselves despise, 
And see second-hand through their eyes. 
Let us peep at all these peepers, 
In all limes our keepers. 
Italic, Ionic, Hellenic, Scottish school, 
Hutchison, Spinoza, Campanella, 
Spencer, Mill, Baily, Ptolemy, 
Appollonius, Euclid, Aristotle, Zeno, 
Heraclitus, Democritus, Bruno, Bentham, 
Xenophan, Thai- s, Schelling, Pythagoras, 
Diogenes, Aristippu<, Epicura*, Anaxagoras, 
Edwards, Krug, Fichte, Comte Mansel, 
Bill Nye, Vedante, Kapila, Alaux, Carus, 

Descartes. 

! 

Let thunderer Carlyle 
Curse Deity and likewise bile! 
l.et Byron curse God in verse, 
Let Tyndall sadness God curse. 
Let Great Reviews still maintain, 
That simply cursing does n't explain. 
Let jesters giimace • 'in my eye," 
Let Col. Bobbie curse and live! 
Let him live in sin this son 
In sin, in sin, in Washington. 



Spencer XIV Vol.— then XV doth embark, 
1 hough foundation strong, ethics wide of 

mark. 
The und rpining to uphold, 
This scheme of his morals was bold. 
Bold and daring was the game, 
Though crowning it was frail and tame. 
Of survival of the fittest, much did speak, 
Doesn't care (heartless) a damn for the destruc- 
tion oj the, weak. 
With Speneer he doesn't seek quarrels, 
Though he seems devoid of morals. 
His coming work the better will kill, 
For it to morals — is nihil. 



HUNCH. 



25 



By it let ambition profit, 

This is the moral of it. 

Twenty years to build it from the ground, 

Twenty pages (by reviewer) brings it tumbling 

down! 
As to "God" denies being Theist, Deist, 
Atheist, Polytheist, Monotheist, 
Spiritualist, Forceist, Materialist; 
All absurd — but he sees 
Aside of truth in each of these! 
This many sides in one combine, 
Hence spins Unknown out very fine. 
Claims Agnostic, now see him fall — 
There is (knov*s !) a power beh nd all! 
World moved before and after Christ and Gui- 

teau is shown 
By inspiration of its own. 
Heaven — cow and bee diet, 
Or torrid zone, some prefer will try it. 

Jesus in Jerusalem, 

Before insane asylum, 

When justice was so very blind — disgrace, 

When men were killed when off their mental 

base. 
Slips out of this chronic fight of fist, 
By being neither Neitherisi! 
Investigates how all things act, 
But as to why, flies the track. 
From sidereal system in three eras, 
To inward system of visceras. 

! 

Jesus Christ — let us be frank, 

Compare I will to Charles, the crank; 

One in his greatest act, 

Brought fiom death to life one back. 

Guiteau sent one to grave and rest , 

Doubled for Lazarus his ills — which acted best? 

Poor Christ — poor Guiteau! 

Sorrow for both I show! 

Malefactors both — insatiate, 

Inverted thus two men's estate. 

Would we avoid such disgrace, 

Leave every thing in nature's place. 

He who courts nature wins; 

Perverts her and add sin to sins. 

Jesus Christ felt disgrace ; 

A God? trespassed — sought man's place, 

Discovered, alas ! too late, His terror 

Appeared too late — after Error 

Let man appear among the gods! 

Commotion strange — he faces odds. 

With, peace, with them, they'd ne'er consent, 

So oddly out of element, 

Still, quite strange-why anger why do we laugh? 

Neglect some men for a poor half. 

Jesus Christ, with mob-like odds, 

Fared ill ; no sympathy for gous. 

They wrote h m down a sorry cheat, 

And stopped in man the god-conceit. 

No M. D's sat on the brain, 

To test if it was stark insane. 

Had Jesus Christ now have come, t - 

Nursed would have been, in asylum. 



Experts — science — on Guiteau 

Said writ, lunatico inquirendo! 

When the mob cties, "no good 1" 

Sane commit a ciime ! — "his blood !" 

One can forgive an insane deed, 

But crime of Justice ! Reform we need. 

[Exit. 

Enter E. 

Woman all escape this sin; 

Philosophy is masculine. 

Unless I turn di>puter, 

Write it down as neuter. 

In our day so many things are sin, 

That we must shut out Nature to let religion in. 

That Pope, so full of learning, should be so 
so very blind, 

To write for the few — and thereby miss man- 
kind. 

He wrote quite perfectly — His MSS. the sky— 

Man, write upon the ground, if you would catch 
the eye. 

Write right along — write truth, and write it 
plain, 

Then, when mortals look, they do not look in 
vain 

Be what you are, be it in the text, 

Nor hide in subtilty in mistifying context. 

Say what you are in daylight, nor h de ; 

To get up .steam pull the throttle wide. 

Write at your mark and strike it sure; 

That weakest sin of learning is to obscure. 

! 

Socrates, Apostle of Talk, 
Piato, ditto of Chinning, 
Aristotle "about did walk;" 
This trio set mankind to sinning. 

! 

Apotheosis of Steam — Conservation of energy, 

Correlation of forces in one synergy. 

Kinetic and, potential damns dynamic. 

And now we see biology — qui e physic. 

D mn all spiritual as gross demerit, 

Except the pushing modern spirit. 



The pulpit to-day rates 
Intellectual light-weights; 
Still Beecher s ill extorts 
On politics and such cavorts. 
To-day great giant Henry Beecher, 
For infidelity is its teacher. 

! 

In morals let all be told, 

A healthy heart will not a secret hold. 

The villain knave in secret whisper low, 

A Good man wi 1 not a secret know. 

Nature one can interpret, 

B sh ! that Nature is all secret. 

To her go — and appeal, 

Every secret will she reveal. 

In morals would you be wealthy? 

Simply ask "is it healthy?" 



26 



HUNCH. 



Many morals on'y blight! 

If it's healthy, it is right. 

Tho' the bigots — heresy hunters all, 

Raise a most unearthly squall. 

Long man in purgatory was confined, 

Religion, last infirmity of the mind; 

Reason is science wise mother, 

Religion is her fooli-h sister. 

Now it is not even right, 

To speak "God" to etrs polite. 

Mea still will refine his conscience, 

Tho' with God they have no patience. 

Calvin hid his Servetus thry say, 

Seems to me it was the other way! 

Orthodox might know that something would 

come after. 
Torch and grave accompaniments — they face 

the sceptic's laughter. 
Common sense always in minority, 
Presidents elected by majority! 

! 

Laws are now in vogue, 

Thu disarm the subject; but arm the rogue. 
Laws like Nature wrong seem-;, by her means, 
But let her kill and slay — she elevates the 

ends. 
And what she wastes in men the pest, 
They will not be missed, so she saves the 

best. 
To the play of man this is the prologue, 
Judge not because now it's— you-know-what on 

the frog. 

! 

Sh, Socrates, gifted with confab, 
"Shut your mouth," he replies; himself he 
would not stand Gab. 

! 

Minn's are the same, we differ tho' in taste, 
Same stuff turns one skeptic, another goes to 

— Grace. 
Believer damns agnostic for his views, 
Push him and he turns into your shoes. 
Try it if you will and every ism. 
At last takes refuge in agnosticism. 
"God is past finding out; oh, we simply know 
Nothing at last, is not that so?" 
Yes; says agnostic — see whit is in a name! 
Whig is not a Tory tho' they talk the same; 
Call a man a Democrat that means the Elect, 
If never Elected, Agnostic — hm! sort of new — 

insect? 

! 

Call me a Philistine, if you will. 

The Philistine's business is King Sham to 

kill. 
Tho' to these Exquisites, it brings a painful 

sigh, 
Because we slay instead of worshiping a lie. 

Philosophy was badly split, 
From Plato to Kant on one side — from Aristot 
to Locke the opposite. 



This yawning gulf, then came the plan, 

Herby Spencer made the span, 

And all at once was hailed as Sage, 

"Greatly in advance of age." 

And for it all his thought transcendent, 

Academy of France made htm correspond - 
ent! 

Now Spencer — though he does not cuss, 

Accounts for it as fortuitous, 

And doubtless lories for ablution, 

From this downward evolution! 

Solved the trouble through the basal inorganic 
sphere, 

The principle of heredity — hardly comes in 
here. 

He reconciled transcendental and experimental 
fuss, 

Now he must be reconciled, for what France 
did for us. 

Man no longer is exempt 

From thinking: hurcli is in contempt. 

Hail to science — sane to sanity! 

To take the place of Christianity(P) 

Exit church, ta-ta, Belef! 

Bad to worse Now. for Relief. 

Virtue is monotonous, vice is a charm, 

While there is contrast have not alarm. 

Good as the best — bad as the worst — and in- 
different, 

Homo to hetero is natural, says the scient. 

All good and no climax to the story, 

Many kinds of men to make history. 

Spice of life lies in varieties, 

Great is enhanced by contrarieties. 

Honesty per se is nothing new, 

Probability tells us what to do. 

! 

Man blow your nose — bazoo — not honest horn, 

Divine when in a pinch "hooked" somebody's 
corn. 

Greely knew table manners I suppose, 

He also knows the taste of adipose 

Nevermind Commandments in your measure- 
ment of men, 

Christ h ms;lf could not he measured by the 
Ten. 

Man still will have his moral query, 

Vice, not Virtue \s hereditary. 

Man has his a ms likewise his ends, 

And the way to reach — depends. 

Health. Hope and Hash-self-abuse and wreck, 

Another puny sin is sel-neglect. 

Therefore to be a perfect goose, 

Neglect not self, nor self seduce. 

Man's reason so very dear, 

Bemused in woman's atmosphere. 

W»lt. Whitman lost the use of it, 

Did phyllophagus when nosing an arm pit. 

Gourmand Sand, gluttonous George, 

Enough? "Too much-give me a gorge." 

So very weak, she went it blind, 

Yet she was hailed as masculine! 

Hear her rail ar mankind — the wretch, 

Weaker than the frailest of her sex. 



HUNCH. 



27 



Wisdom ever will consent, 

Fools for good Self-government. 

Fools Grand, Square, Upright and Tame, 

Genius glories in its shame. 

When we brag of our day, 

Our day is in decay. 

When we give a sure lament, 

Sure sign we are not hellward bent. 

M<iny things are ill adjusted much is now 

misfit, 
Things will work somewhat better when we get 

out of it! 

! 

The world is well supplied with clod 

Hoppers after euphemistic God. 

That Priest should worship man theology, 

And neglect thereby gyneolatry! 

Religion (the Vulgar) what did it slay? 

Freedom, dear sir, Democracy. 

Right Divine has gone to hell, 

Jefferson, rural disciple of Voltaire, the infidel. 

Democracy the thing smart fool, 

While we have King Machine to rule! 

From none to too much liberty in one section, 

Is quickly lost in this direction. 

Bat society needs the following appliances, 

She must tolerate literature and sciences! 

So too' Machine must reach felicity, 

Clean closets, run telegraph and have police- 
men to hit by electricity. 

The last of every ilk and ism, 

Before science is station physicism. 

All our ills rise — let head be level, 

From social reactions, not from the devil. 

Man: God help! my ills God now knows, 

God: Ask politician to get off your toes. 

Ingenius indeed, dire disaster! 

We create heavens, our errors to plaster. 

King: I give you a blow! now I point to the 
stars, 

(I'm out of arnica) go there for repairs. 

And fools go nosing 'mong the stars, 

For redress, raise hell! if no relief — then wars. 

When fools learn that all their crosses 

Are from legislation, a'as! for the Bosses. 

The thought it almost drives me mad, 

To see Virtue in distress looking to impossible 
future — here the sad! 

Legislation! mans bill still lays, 

On an empty table, ignored by mean and 
ways. 

Nature is no bankrupt, she is prepared to fill 

Our bellies, and have bread baskets still. 

She is willing man's will to execute, 

But barrier Legisiation raises a dispute. 

Few toilers labor for the many loafing scum 

Cooks the dinner — they steal it, few get a 
crumb. 

Dainty fine haired dudes and dukes Top of Pot 

Get the meat, hurl the bone at the mob of Rot. 

Still it is true — no mattar what ideals, 

Of Excellence, Water! and some «ims( dig the 
wells. 

To the few who will have truth in every way, 

These few are in agreament plain as day. 



The false in education in its myriad ways, 

Breeds turbulence, errors and diversities. 

Mankind is ever ready to fa 1 out over lies, 

And often rise from prayers to scratch out each 
other's eyes. 

To the realms of reason, 

Mad debate is out of season. 

Where they divide between west and nor'west 
of hair. 

Angry passions — loud report mouth do not en- 
ter there. 

From oaths and loud regurgitation, 

It's toned down to heated animation. 

Sing the Song of Science it only panegyrize, 

It and the dead — the living satirize. 

Vices are dropped, virtues attained by slow 
degrees, 

Start good and wind up with moral disease. 

Clothe the loafers in finest fashion, 

Producer not a thing to put on, 

To draw it true as well as fine, 

Grow the grape — drink the water — they the 
wine! 

! 

If I'd only reasoned the time "I believed," 
If I'd only studied the time that I grieved, 

A happier worm were I! 
Listen ! 'sh-h, nature speaks 
A thousand dialects — man but squeaks 
The best of talk to learning 
Is a very ballc. 

We crawl and bab before we walk 
The plank. Life is too short to talk. 
Life to me — yes, life to me, 
Is shorter than it use to be, 
Had I but cut out my tongue, 
My nerves would not be so unstrung. 
Would you prolong your career, 
Take mankind's nose from out your ear. 
We talk and listen for our pains ; 
Chatter steals away our brains. 
Silence — and have many days, 
Let Nature get a word in edge-ways! 
Noise, hub-bub, confusion, hum-drum, 
A very loosened Asylum. 
Hope slinks off, uprises fears; 
Hell ! we cannot hear our ears 
Squeak — rill within the lute — discord, charivari 
Nature's music hence is haii-kari. 
Silence is better than glory, obscurity richer 

than fame, 
Vexation ever follows the making of a name. 
After all, week a r e words and thought, 
Depends upon what we are taught. 
New England, Yankee psil<»sophy, 
While Mme. Hlavatski Kout Houmi teaches 

theosophi 
In India we have Col. (of which?) Olcott, 
In Summer School Mr. Alcott, 
Ingersoll giveth 
'Em hell, who know that their Redeemer 

liveth ! 
A God— a Methodist is Christ, it's in my creed. 
And in mine (Unitarian) Christ is a mere half- 

breed, 



28 



HUNCH. 



Neither man — neither god — 

A sort of pious rhizopod, 

A piece of bnc-a-brac, well, I should say, 

In spiritual phenomena. 

Christ! Superstition, how good it feels a very 

revel ! 
Out, Religion, thou retarding devil ! 
Antithesis in me insatiate 
Once loved — horrors ! — the Vice that now I 

hate. 
Take it either Campbellite or Broad, 
I know of no Greater Fraud, 
Unless it be — (let's have a little persiflage), 
You and me ! 

In the Mythical set-to on the throne, 
God knocked Sataneo to the regions of Brim- 
stone. 
But Voltaire with a pray goose-quill as lance 
Knocked Beecher's Goddie Pap out of Heaven, 

from France. 
And the true, Good — Designer and Inter- 
preter 
Doubtless laughed at Frail Usurper's dis- 
comfiture. 
Christianity gives us churchianity ; 
It also furnishes prolanity. 
Let me speak in numbers round, 
A million oaths ascend a week from this little 

mound. 
I am no statistician — he who calculates 
Says, the Oath is Some in these United States. 
I am not prepared to say who takes the cakery, 
But Kentucky crop is not to be sniffed at, Mr. 

Bakery. 
This is quite a disgrace — 
Poor in language, but rich in revivals in this 

place. 
Christianity flees the wise, grave, learned jud- 
icious, 
To swell census, must go to heathen or super- 
stitious. 
To dull observer he's free to proclaim ; 
Tho' religions may differ, human acts are the 

same. 
Whether under the turban or under stove- 
pipe, 
Virtues do blossom, vices are ripe. 
Then, from a moral sense 
Turk or Perfectionist makes no difference. 
France, the U. S. are quite Icon< clast ; 
In spite of Mat. Arnold, they want no Hum- 
bugs of the Past. 
Spain and Ireland still cling to night, 
And, in this day of progress are not in the 

fight 
Metaphysics now is frank, 

Tho' they affect propriety of speech, they surely 
point to Blank. 



In times past they hoped — but feared a vacuum 

'tis said, 
In nature. We fear two, belly and so head. 

[Exit. 
[Enter E. 

All parties have this trouble — put a pin in it. 
They suffer from their own rash foo's, more 

than their enemies agin it, 
That Infidels and Christians could turn the 

rascals out ; 
Harmony would quickly "be thar, or thar about. 
The Bible and its Bete Noir should dwell to- 
gether 
'Tis the cheerful Idiots who sick 'em on each 

other. 
The Bible Alone, per se to me is not a pest. 
It lays on my table, never it molest, 
But from it have grown such devilish divinity, 
Between us would be hell — if in such near 

proximity. 
The Bible: Tho' they dress in robes of white- 
ness, 
I must confess, we bear no family likeness! 
Chile's reason is Because man's Cause ; 
Push Reason Cause weak as Because, or Laws. 
Teach not the Narrow Way — Fear leads to 

Blunder ; 
Teach theB road, and Fear is lost in Wonder. 
See the pious dupe — "I know, I am redeemed." 

— His sadness. 
He only feels — or lies — first, a form of Migious 

madness. 
Nature, if viewed soon gets out of sight* 
If this winds us up, 'tis for the best, and right, 
And he who labors for his prize 
May get left — might get a surprise. 
Believer is safe — if there is a heaven — they 

maintain. 
But that little "i f " many hopes has slain. 
Nature will finish all her plans; 
Truth deals not in ifs and ands. 

[Exit. 
Here my toes cried out: "Nothing — no 
suffering of mortals is as cold as neglect. 
Fancy our suffering then! super-mortals, and 
thou turned critic! Alas!" and the toe to my 
trunk sobbed, while the deep tenderness in the 
eye of the toe to my little finger touched me, 
and I began to reinstate myselt again, holding 
the poets in my trunk for the Third Passage. 
I so informed them, and, at first, they rebelled 
and upbraided me, and fell upon each other in 
their common suffering, tore their hair, and 
otherwise disported themselves like mad men. 
Then one said: "Let's take advantage of 
our confinement, and improve our lines " This 
met with general favor. So I turn to my laboi 
of love. 



END OF FIRST HALF. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





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